


Defying Fate

by Humanitys_Shortest_Soldier



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety, Dumb Teenage Boys, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari, M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, POV Akashi Seijuurou, POV Furihata Kouki, Red String of Fate, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, akafuri - Freeform, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanitys_Shortest_Soldier/pseuds/Humanitys_Shortest_Soldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi Seijuurou does not believe in soulmates. </p><p>Furihata Kouki wants nothing more in life than to find his other half. </p><p>When the two of them wake up to a red string tied around their fingers, it forces both of them to question everything they thought they believed in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been tossing itself around in my head for months now, and I'm a total sucker for Red String fics, so here goes my attempt at it!

There were a lot of things that Akashi didn't believe in.

Perhaps it wasn’t so much that he _didn’t_ believe, but more so that he _couldn’t_ believe. Having been raised in a traditional Japanese household, Akashi was accustomed to a wide variety of rituals and customs. He found enjoyment in most of them, taking interest in the rich history that coincided with the majority of them. He was more than comfortable with this, especially considering he was able look up and track decades upon decades of the same traditions, as well as the reasons behind them, from more than reliable sources.

But then there were the other ideals, or perhaps they were more accurately labeled ‘legends’, that were quickly becoming increasingly popular throughout Japan. Some he had heard since he was a child, when his mother use to read to him before bed and tell him of the benefits of wishing upon a shooting star or blowing away a stray eyelash. Others were whispered throughout grade school as children teased one another by writing each others names in red ink to bring bad luck.

Akashi had never been able to wrap his head around any of them. After all, these things were called myths and legends for a reason, that reason being the lack of any substantial proof or evidence that they were true. Wishing on a shooting star did not bring those wishes to reality, just as a particular color of ink would not bring misfortune. Akashi couldn’t see them for more than what they were, despite the small part of him that occasionally wished he could. They were words parents told children to keep them out of trouble, or things classmates liked to tell to frighten one another.

In other words, Akashi saw them as utter nonsense.

There was a legend in particular that had been gaining popularity as of late, so much so that it was even airing on news stations occasionally. People throughout Japan, and the world even, had been claiming that they’ve been waking up with a simple red string tied around their pinky fingers. Even more ludicrous, they also claim that these mysterious strings lead straight to their soulmates.

Akashi had heard the legend of the ‘Red String of Fate’ before, of course. Everyone had. He remembers hearing his female classmates from as far back as grade school talk about it, fantasizing about who they were destined to be with.

He had found the notion ridiculous, even back then. It seemed narcissistic, for one thing, to believe that there was someone out there who was designed specifically for one individual. Even if that were true, which Akashi found nearly impossible to believe, what were the odds of that person living close enough for the two to ever meet? And then there was the overwhelming lack of evidence to support any of it. People claimed that the string existed, yet there wasn’t so much as a photo to back it up. “ _It’s because only your soulmate can see it_ ”, was the common response. Akashi found the entire ordeal absurd, yet more and more people were coming forward with claims that it existed.

Which is why when Akashi wakes up one morning to a neatly knotted red string tied around his pinky finger, it throws him off for a moment.

He hadn’t even noticed it right away; it wasn’t until he was brushing his teeth in preparation for class that he first caught sight of the string. At first he mistook it for a stray hair of his, seeing as it was nearly the same shade. But after brushing and picking at it a few times, he finally allowed the reality to set in.

It seems the string existed after all.

This fact didn’t change his thoughts on the matter in the slightest. Just because he now had proof right in front of him didn’t mean that the entire legend was true. After all, the string was the easiest part for him to swallow, given that the implication behind it supposedly meant that there was another person in the world with a string to go with his. The concept of soulmates was much harder for him to grasp.

Akashi stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, deciding how to best handle the situation. His first thought was to call Midorima, since his green haired friend had a degree of expertise in the matter, but quickly brushed the thought aside. He was in no way prepared to deal with _that_ conversation. He briefly entertained the thought of calling Mibuchi, but again, he ultimately decided against it.

Instead, he went to school, and quickly found the conundrum of the string pushed to the back of his mind. It did surprise him a bit, when he realized that none of his classmates or teammates could see it. He didn’t say anything about it, of course, but his left hand had been in full few for most of the day, yet no one so much as spared it a second glance.

Well, that was reassuring, to say the least.

For once, Akashi found himself grateful for his busy schedule. On top of exams quickly approaching, Akashi’s father was also insisting that he partake in a summer internship at the company’s Tokyo branch. Soon enough he would be forced to balance that, along with basketball practice and end-of-the-year homework, as well as his private studies. Normally, he might be slightly concerned, but for the moment, he was thankful for any distraction from the puzzling situation at hand. As his list of work to be done before the school year ended piled up, Akashi found the troublesome string around his finger shoved further and further from his thoughts.

Nearly a month after the string first made its appearance, Akashi found himself walking down the sidewalk in Tokyo. His father had requested his presence to finalize his schedule for the internship, since the last day of school was only a few weeks away. Everything had gone smoothly, as expected. Akashi was more than a little pleased with how the whole thing had turned out. He would be scheduled to work weekends, for only a few hours in the mornings, which would leave him with plenty of free time for his studies or visiting old friends that lived in the area.

Akashi was looking forward to that the most. After the Winter Cup, he hadn’t gotten to see his former teammates very often, the exceptions being Kuroko’s birthday party and the handful of times they’d gotten together for coffee. It was rare to get them all together, with everyone’s conflicting schedules, but he had managed to see everyone at least twice since the party. He was hoping, with summer break, that perhaps meetings would be easier to arrange.

Currently, Akashi was on his way back to his father’s apartment that he kept incase of business meetings such as these. His train back to Kyoto didn’t depart until tomorrow evening, leaving him nearly a day to catch up on any last minute assignments from the week prior. He glanced absentmindedly at the numerous shops and restaurants that lined the streets, remembering all times he’d walked this same route back in middle school.

A familiar sign caught his eye, and Akashi stopped without thinking about it. It was a book store, and it held an air of nostalgia around it. He had often frequented this shop in middle school, since it was so close to his apartment complex. He even recalled how he had tipped off Kuroko and Midorima to its location, seeing that the small, seemingly unassuming building was often overlooked for larger establishments. Akashi stood on the sidewalk, letting pleasant memories drift through his thoughts.

He might as well go inside, he finally decided. After all, he had a long train ride ahead of him tomorrow, and if he managed to finish his schoolwork tonight, he would be left with nothing to occupy himself with for the duration of the ride. A promising new book would be just the solution for that.

Akashi pushed the door open, a chiming _ting_ announcing his entrance. He gave a friendly nod to the older man behind the front desk before ducking between two aisles, scanning the shelves with keen interest.

He quickly found himself adrift in the many tightly-packed rows of books. He knew he should decide swiftly and be on his way, but instead he found himself lingering for longer than necessary, in no real hurry. It was relaxing, to say the least. It was rare that he had an opportunity like this, and even if it was a task as simple as selecting a new book, it was nice not to have any immediate deadlines breathing down his neck.

A book with a worn green spine with gold embellishments caught Akashi’s eye, and he plucked it from the shelf, scanning the summary and skimming through the first few pages with interest before replacing it. He moved slowly, his gaze examining the titles incase one caught his attention, when his shoulder bumped into something hard.

Or rather, when something hard bumped into _him._

He heard the sound of a book clattering to floor, and realized that the _something_ had been a _someone_. Akashi brought a hand up to his shoulder and orientated himself, noticing that the person who had run into him was rubbing at the center of his forehead, a wince of pain evident in the shape of his mouth.

Akashi thought the boy appeared to be around his own age, despite the fact that his hand shielded most of his face. Something about his mousy brown hair seemed vaguely familiar to him, although he had no clue as to why.

The brunet lowered his hand, a stuttered apology falling from his lips.

“Excuse m-me! I wasn’t p-aying atten--” The boy cut off suddenly, his expression quickly changing from embarrassment to what Akashi could only describe as alarmed, almost fearful. The blood drained from his face, leaving him looking white as snow. His pupils were nearly pinpoints, and something about that small detail also seemed very familiar.

Akashi was certain he had met this person before, wearing this exact same expression. A sudden memory invaded his thoughts, a flashback of the door being pulled open at Kuroko’s birthday party…

“Furihata-kun?” Akashi asked, just has he had back then. He was almost certain that was the boy’s name. Seirin’s first year point guard, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Fortunately, Furihata remained conscious this time. The way his eyes widened even further in panic was less fortunate. The brunet stumbled backwards a half step before bumping into the shelves behind him.

Akashi extended a hand automatically. “Are you all rig--”

“S-Sorry!” Furihata interrupted suddenly, holding his hands up apologetically. “I-It’s my f-fault...I w-w-wasn’t--” He cut off, his throat pulsing with a visible swallowing motion. “I-I’m really s-sorry, he stuttered again, ducking down into a clumsy bow. Before Akashi could respond, Furihata turned and darted around the corner of the aisle, disappearing from sight. A few seconds later and Akashi heard the front door chime with what he presumed to be Furihata’s departure.

Akashi barely paid it any mind. His eyes were still glued to the space where Furihata’s hands had been, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t seen what he thought he had…

Because if he didn’t know any better, Akashi could have sworn he’d caught the flash of something red around Furihata’s pinky finger, just before the brunet had turned to make his escape.

Akashi stood staring into space as a three month old memory played out before his eyes. He’d been in town for the weekend, and Midorima had offered to meet him for coffee…

_“How was your trip?” Akashi asked, raising his mug to his lips._

_“Pleasant enough,” Midorima answered, adjusting his glasses. “The park was more than a little childish for my taste, but my sister seemed to enjoy herself.”_

_Akashi couldn’t help but give a small smile. “Does that mean you didn’t partake in any of the rides?”_

_Midorima scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink. Akashi chuckled quietly at his friend's response, as well as the mental picture of his former teammate clutching the lap bar of some thrill ride._

_He kept his comments to himself, not wanting to tease his friend when he had the feeling that there was something much more pressing weighing on his mind._

_“Not that I’m opposed,” Akashi began, choosing his words carefully. “But was there anything in particular you wished to discuss? You sounded oddly urgent when you called.”_

_Akashi had texted him the day before he was scheduled to arrive in the city, inviting him to a game of Shogi if Midorima was available. Akashi would be in town for a dinner party for his father’s company, but his schedule would be free until early evening. Rather than getting a text back, Midorima had called him, and asked if they could meet for coffee instead at his earliest convenience._

_Midorima’s brows pinched together in the middle, his eyes flickering down to his mug, where his taped fingers were wrapped around the slender handle. “There is, although I’m not sure where to begin.”_

_Akashi couldn’t help thinking that his friend’s behavior was off. Midorima was typically rather blunt, speaking his mind with little hesitation. “Is everything alright?”_

_His friend set his drink down, green eyes remaining downcast. Akashi noticed that Midorima seemed oddly focused on his left hand._

_“I know you aren’t particularly interested in this sort of thing,” MIdorima began, sidestepping Akashi’s question. “But are you familiar with the legend of the Red String of Fate?”_

_“I am,” Akashi answered, hardly surprised by the direction of his friend’s thoughts. After all, he was more than well acquainted with Midorima’s rather eccentric obsession with fate. While Akashi didn’t take any personal interest in horoscopes and the like, he also wasn’t one to judge others for their beliefs. “Is that what’s troubling you?”_

_Midorima pushed his glasses up before meeting Akashi’s curious gaze. “Two days ago, when I woke up, there was a red string tied around my pinky finger. At first I thought it was my sister trying to prank me, but I was able to rule that out quickly. I can’t touch it or untie it, and--”_

_The green cell phone resting on the table cut him off, vibrating loudly against the wooden surface. Midorima muttered a quick “excuse me,” and lifted the phone, checking the screen for the identity of the caller. He rolled his eyes at the name before declining the call._

_Akashi blinked, tilting his head to the side and giving his friend a skeptical look. “Are you telling me that the string exists?”_

_“I’m having a hard time believing it myself,” Midorima responded. “While I obviously accept the workings of fate in certain situations, I always found concept of the string hard to swallow.”_

_Akashi stared at Midorima’s hands, trying to see what he couldn’t. If anyone else had told him this story, he would have had a difficult time believing them. Midorima wasn’t one to lie, however, or make things up for popularity or attention._

_Still, Akashi was having a hard time wrapping his head around it._

_“I’m not--” Midorima began, only to be interrupted again by his buzzing cell phone. He once again declined the call, barely sparing it a second glance._

_This behavior was also odd, Akashi thought. He’d never known his friend to be one to pass phone calls off._

_“It seems someone is demanding your attention,” Akashi commented. “Are you certain it’s not important?”_

_Midorima scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s just Takao. He’s been trying to get ahold of me all morning.”_

_Akashi remembered Takao well, both from his skill and determination in their match at the Winter Cup as well as their meeting at Kuroko’s party. He had found it more than amusing, watching the two of them interact. Midorima and Takao were opposites in every imaginable way, yet their teamwork and companionship on and off the court reminded him in some strange way of Aomine and Kuroko, back in their Teiko days._

_“Perhaps it’s an emergency,” Akashi said, glancing at the device on the table. “Have you spoken with him?”_

_Midorima took a sip of his drink, setting it back down with care. “It’s never an emergency with Takao. He probab--”_

Bzzt. Bzzt.

_“Him again?” Akashi asked, nodding towards the vibrating phone._

_Midorima sighed, snatching the phone off the table and pressing it to his ear, an annoyed look on his face._

_“What is it?” Midorima asked, cutting straight to the point. Akashi could hear Takao’s excited tone on the other end of the line, but he was unable to make out any of the words. “Tell me later,” Midorima interrupted. “I’m busy--No, I’ll call you...I’m getting coffee, I’ll be home lat--Takao! Don’t come up here! Just wait--” Midorima pulled the phone away from his ear, and Akashi could hear the faint sound of a dial tone from the other end._

_“Damnit,” Midorima mumbled, flipping his phone closed. “I’m sorry about that. Takao is on his way here, but I’ll get rid of him when he shows up.”_

_“It’s no trouble at all,” Akashi told him, lifting his own drink to his lips._

_Midorima raised his hand, running his index finger around his left pinky, circling the invisible string. It pulled Akashi back to the topic at hand. “So, what do you plan to do about it?” he asked, watching Midorima’s fingers curiously. He squinted, trying to see, but of course he couldn’t._

_“I suppose the only option I have is to wait and see,” Midorima answered simply._

_Akashi raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “And when, or should I say if, you find your soulmate or what have you, do you intend to accept them?”_

_Midorima was silent for a moment before answering. “I imagine it would be fairly hard, to deny that sort of proof right in front of you. While I personally never took any interest in the concept of soulmates...I don’t believe any harm would come from seeing if we are compatible.”_

_Akashi stared, trying to maintain his calm expression. He more than a little shocked by the revelation. For as long as he’d known Midorima, his green haired friend had never shown the slightest interest in anything romantic, or even any interest in people, for that matter. Midorima was quiet, and generally kept to himself. It was one of the reasons Akashi had befriended him so quickly. They were alike in that aspect._

_But now that same friend was telling him that he would be willing to pursue a potential relationship with someone because of a not-so-fictional string. It was more than a little bewildering, to put it lightly._

_The door to the cafe banged open suddenly, causing Akashi and Midorima to jerk their heads at the sound. Takao stood in the doorway, scanning the booths before catching sight of the two, paired off in quiet corner of the shop._

_A grin stretched across Takao’s face, and he bounded forward, waving off the stewardess who had come to seat him._

_“Shin-chan! There you are! I’ve been trying to talk to you all--” Takao met Akashi’s gaze, slowing as he approached their booth. “Oh, uh, hey...Akashi.”_

_Akashi smiled gently, cupping his mug between his hands. “Hello, Takao-kun. It’s nice to see you again.”_

_Takao blinked. “Yeah, you too.” The grin returned to face as he nodded towards Midorima. “Is it cool if I interrupt you two for a sec? Shin-chan has been avoiding me all morning.”_

_“Be my guest,” Akashi said, gesturing across the table._

_Midorima unwilling turned his attention to Takao. “I told you I’d call you back when I got home.”_

_“Yeah, and you also said you’d call me the minute you got back from your trip, but you didn’t.” Takao shook his head in mock disappointment before smiling again. “Listen! Something happened the other day, and I know you’re big into all this kinda crap, so I wanted to tell you before I talked to anyone else, and it’s kinda hard to explain over the phone so I--”_

_“Just get to the point and go,” Midorima said, adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose._

_Takao laughed. “Geez, you’re a grump today, huh? But fine, whatever.” Takao hesitated for a moment, clearly building up the suspense. Suddenly, he extended his left hand, all of his fingers curled into a fist except for his pinky finger. “It’s the red string! You know, from that legend? I know you can’t see it, but--”_

_Midorima’s mug clattered to the table, cutting Takoa off. Large pieces of porcelain littered the table, along with the remainder of his coffee._

_Akashi looked from the mess in front of him to Midorima, who was frozen, his eyes fixed on Takao’s hand, his expression horrified._

_“What the hell, Shin-chan?!” Takao cried, reaching forward to grab a handful of napkins. Midorima snagged his wrist, halting him. The raven stared back, confused, while Akashi started trying to mop up the mess before coffee started dripping onto the floor. There was a long pause before anyone spoke._

_“Shin-chan?” Takao asked, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”_

_With the coffee mostly cleaned up, Akashi turned his attention back to the two in front of him. He wasn’t typically one behave so rudely as to eavesdrop, but the concern for his friend kept him seated._

_In answer, Midorima lifted his left hand and held it up to Takao, his expression still frozen._

_Takao stared at it, eyes widening in shock, and suddenly, Akashi made the connection._

_They could see each other’s strings._

_The silence was heavy, and Akashi was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Just as he was wondering how to resolve this situation, Takao burst out laughing, tugging his hand away from Midorima._

_“No way!” Takao laughed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. “Ha, this is great! I can’t believe…” he trailed off in another fit of giggles. “Listen, I’ll--haha, I’ll let you two finish your drinks or whatever,” Takao finally managed, regaining some composure. He moved away from the table, heading for the door and leaving a dumbfounded Midorima in his wake._

_“Sorry about all this, Akashi,” Takao called over his shoulder. “And I guess I’ll see you later, Shin-chan! Have fun!” With a wave, Takao left. Akashi could still see a smile plastered on his face through the shop windows as he headed down the street._

_Akashi turned back to Midorima, who was still staring at the empty space where Takao had been. He had no clue how to deal with the situation at hand, which was unusual for him. Akashi normally knew the right thing to say at any given time, but now he was at a loss. Should he offer comfort? Would it be better if he ignored the whole ordeal and changed the subject? Midorima wasn’t a very expressive person, and rarely spoke of personal matters. He looked exceptionally uncomfortable, to put it lightly._

_Rather than make matters worse, Akashi chose to stay silent. He flagged over a waitress to remove the broken pieces of mug from the table, offering to pay a replacement fee if necessary. The woman waved him off with smile, clearing away the mess. She was on her way back with a new drink when Midorima spoke._

_“I...apologize for that.” he said softly, accepting the new mug with a polite nod._

_“It’s no trouble at all,” the waitress told him. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”_

_Midorima took a long drink before finally meeting Akashi’s gaze. “I’m sorry for--”_

_Akashi held up his hand, stopping Midorima. “Please, don’t apologize. I understand what just occurred must be…” He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to how his friend must feel at this moment._

_“A mistake,” Midorima said, filling in the blank. “There’s no way--I mean, perhaps the legends are wrong. Maybe the string is simply a symbol of friendship, or for a partnership that’s different from romance. Like basketball, for instance.” He nudged his glasses up again, clearly agitated._

_“Perhaps,” Akashi nodded in agreement, despite knowing that his own thoughts on the string would remain unchanged. There were no such thing as soulmates, in Akashi’s opinion, so his friend’s proposal was substantially more believable, but he still failed to comprehend it. People made their own choices, and their own decisions. Trusting in fate implied giving up control of your own life, a concept Akashi couldn’t understand. If you wanted something, you had to earn it, through hard work and effort._

_Midorima changed the subject quickly after that, and Akashi went along with it, not wanting to upset his friend any further. They talked about mundane things, like school and basketball practice, and if either of them had read a particularly good book lately._

_But Akashi could tell Midorima’s thoughts were elsewhere, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him when their meeting ended earlier than usual. He’d been hoping to spend a little more time with his friend, especially since he had a long day ahead of him before the dinner with his father, but he understood the necessity._

_“I’ll give you a call the next time I’m in town,” Akashi said, adjusting his bag._

_Midorima nodded. “Please do. I hope everything goes well with your father.”_

_Akashi laughed, rolling his eyes. “Ah, yes. There’s nothing like spending the evening with several CEO’s who are only interested in one-upping each other over a few too many drinks.” He paused for a moment, the smile slipping off his face. “I don’t mean to press the issue,” he began hesitantly. “But if you would ever feel the need to talk about it, I hope you know that I’ll gladly listen.”_

_Midorima met his gaze for a long moment before looking away, his eyebrows pinching together. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”_

_“Of course,” Akashi responded._

_They said their goodbyes and set off in different directions. As Akashi walked, he couldn’t help but replay the scene from the cafe over and over, from Midorima telling him that the Red String really existed, to watching his friends’ obvious horror upon discovering the identity of his supposed “soulmate”. It was a lot to take in, considering Akashi had always found the entire legend to be ridiculous. He still did, even with Midorima's claim behind it._

_Despite that, Akashi couldn’t help but wonder what he would do, if he were in Midorima’s situation. Probably ignore it, he thought. It wouldn’t have any impact on his life. Even if he came across the person he was tied too, it wouldn’t change his opinion on the subject…_

“Sir, can I help you with something?” a voice asked, snapping Akashi out of his daze. He glanced up to see the older man from the front desk looking at him with mild concern.

Akashi cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear his mind. “Forgive me, I believe I spaced out for a moment.” He felt his face heat up slightly, unaccustomed to being caught off guard.

“Easy to do when you’re around books,” the man grinned, patting Akashi on the shoulder. Akashi manage to smile back, and the man returned to his post, leaving him with his thoughts once again.

Akashi hadn’t spoken to Midorima much since that day. Occasional texts, nothing more. Midorima never brought the string up, so Akashi didn’t either. He assumed Midorima had either decided to ignore the situation all together, or that the string had vanished entirely. Either way, Akashi had mostly forgotten about the Red String. Even waking up with his own hadn’t caused him to give the legend much thought.

Until now, apparently.

Of course, Akashi had never planned on _actually_ encountering anyone whose string he could see. The thought had scarcely crossed his mind. And even on those rare occasions when he did think about it, he certainly never expected it to be someone he knew.

He glanced down, catching sight of a book spread open on the floor. Akashi bent down to pick it up, remembering the sound of it hitting the floor when he’d bumped into Furihata. He turned the book over in his hands, curious as to what the other boy had been reading so intently that he was oblivious to his surroundings.

The book was titled ‘ _Illustrated Encyclopedia of World Railway Locomotives_ ’. Akashi raised a brow, flipping through the first couple of pages. It was an odd book, to say the least, for a boy his age to be reading. He turned the pages back to the beginning, catching sight of a handwritten name on the inside of the cover.

 _Furihata Kouki_.

Akashi felt a pang of guilt looking at the name. The book was clearly important to Furihata, yet he’d run off without so much as a second glance at it. He understood why, of course. Their first meeting hadn’t been on the best terms, and their second meeting on the court hadn’t gone much better. Akashi had hoped to change Furihata’s opinion of him at Kuroko’s party, but apparently he hadn’t been as successful as he thought.

He closed the book, weighing his options. His train didn’t leave until tomorrow evening, so time wasn’t an issue. He considered handing the book over to the clerk, hoping that Furihata would return for it at some point. Or he could always text Kuroko and hand the book over for him to return. That would be the easiest and safest option…

But it didn’t feel right. For one thing, it would leave Furihata with whatever impression he had of Akashi, which clearly wasn’t a very good one. Returning the book himself would be the perfect opportunity to change that.

Then there was the dilemma with the string. In his panic, had Furihata noticed that Akashi was tied as well? And if he hadn’t, which Akashi didn’t think he did, should he tell Furihata? Or what if he _had_ noticed, and that was what had caused his startling reaction?

Akashi’s head spun in answerless circles, the pros and cons of each scenario playing out before his eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Akashi pushed all thoughts away, settling on the most straightforward path. After all, tackling problems head-on was something he did well.

He tucked the book under his arm and headed for the exit, stopping first to inform the clerk that “a friend of his” had forgotten it. Once on the street, he pulled out his cell phone, not allowing himself to change his mind.

First, he sent a text to Kuroko, explaining the situation without giving away too much information.

Secondly, he called Midorima.


	2. You again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, about that two week update schedule... This took way longer than I thought it would, although with the way work is going, I wouldn't plan on quicker updates. 
> 
> On the bright side, I was going to make this all one long chapter, but I decided to split it, so hopefully the next chapter won't take too long.

Furihata made it halfway home before realizing that he’d forgotten his book.

Well, _forgotten_ wasn’t the right word, since he knew exactly where the book was. _Left behind_ was more accurate. He paused in the middle of the sidewalk, chewing on his bottom lip, wondering if he should risk going back to get it.

The book had been a gift from his parents on his birthday, and it was one he’d had saved on his wishlist online. It turned out even better than he expected. The book was filled all kinds of great details about trains from all of the world, from where and how they were built to new models with state-of-the-art technology. Since receiving it, he’d been digging through a few of the local libraries and stores for any books on some of the models he was unfamiliar with, but so far, he’d come up empty handed.

That is, until Kuroko happened to spot the title of the book when it was stuffed into his schoolbag after practice one day. Furihata had blushed with embarrassment, internally cursing Kuroko’s observation skills before nervously explaining his interests. He had told a couple of his old classmates back in middle school about his borderline obsession with trainspotting, and they had stared at him like he had grown a second head. He knew Kuroko wasn’t like that, but it didn’t make him any less uneasy.

Much to Furihata’s relief, Kuroko didn’t laugh at him. He didn’t immediately run off and start telling their other teammates about it either. Instead he had looked at Furihata with that blank stare, and recommended a bookstore in downtown Tokyo that carried more variety.

“Really?” Furihata asked, eyeing the directions that Kurko and drawn out for him. “I’ve never heard of it.” He was pretty familiar with most of the bookstores in town, or so he thought.

Kuroko had smiled at him in the gentle way of his. “That does not surprise me, Furihata-kun. It is quite easy to miss.”

A few days later after practice, Furihata followed Kuroko’s directions to the small, nondescript bookstore. _Kuroko was definitely right_ , he thought to himself as he walked in. _This place really is easy to miss._

He was too embarrassed to stop and ask the clerk for information on where to look, so he started aimlessly wandering through the aisles, getting distracted and stopping when a book caught his eye. He pulled his own book from his bag as he walked, eyes flickering between the pages and the signs that were posted throughout the store of the different genres. Furihata was making his way towards the one that read _Historical Fiction_ he bumped into _him._

Akashi Seijuurou.

As usual, Furihata made a complete idiot out of himself. It was something that happened a lot, especially around Akashi. His resolve to head back to the store and get his book faltered a bit as he recalled what had happened. What if Akashi was still there? Or what if Furihata ran into him again on the way back?

It wasn’t even like Akashi had done anything. He’d even asked if Furihata was all right, like he wanted to help him. Which was weird, although the fact that Akashi even remembered his name was even weirder. It reminded him of Kuroko’s birthday party, when he pulled the door open only to come face-to-face with Akashi. At least he hadn’t passed out this time.

He didn’t faint, but he definitely didn’t handle the situation much better this time. Akashi was just so _intimidating_ , even off the basketball court. There was a weird air of authority around him, that Furihata could almost feel. Plus he was so polite and well-mannered, and way more mature than any other teenager Furihata had ever met before.

Furihata still remembered how Akashi had sat next to him at Kuroko’s party, even though he could have sat elsewhere. He still had no clue as to why Akashi had done that. It wasn’t like they even knew each other, really. And from their mostly one-sided conversation, Akashi must have figured out that Furihata was a lousy companion.

Despite his shaky hands and stumbling responses, Furihata had noticed pretty quickly that this Akashi was different to the one he’d faced in the Winter Cup. His eyes were still a little freaky, but they were full of warmth compared to the coldness he’d seen on the court. Even the way he spoke was different. Akashi had been polite and kind, and had seemed genuinely interested in what Furihata had to say, although he couldn’t imagine why. In a room full of Miracles, he was a nobody.

Furihata sighed, his mood plummeting, and turned on the sidewalk, deciding he’d go back to the store in a couple days to pick up his book. He made his way home, his thoughts in a jumbled mess of basketball and Akashi.

He couldn’t help but compare himself to the redhead. Furihata had only started playing basketball in high school, and his skill level showed it. Even with all the hard work he put into practice, he hadn’t improved much since he started. Watching Kagami and Kuroko never ceased to amaze him, with how natural the sport seemed to come to them. They made it seem almost effortless, even though Furihata knew that wasn’t the case. All of his teammates had improved so much over the course of the year, but Furihata still felt like he was stuck in the same spot.

Facing Akashi in the Winter Cup Finals had only made him feel worse. He’d been no more than a speck on the windshield. Akashi had passed him with hardly any effort at all, even with Furihata trying his absolute hardest to guard him. With trembling legs and sweat pouring down his face, he’d given his all only for Akashi to breeze right past him like he wasn’t even there. (He’d also fallen face first on the court, in front of Akashi, his teammates, and a stadium full of people, but he tried not to think about that too much.)

When Furihata made his basket, however, all those negative feelings had vanished. For the first time since joining the team, he actually felt like he’d done something to help. Even after being benched, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over in his head. He, Furihata Kouki, of below-average skill, had scored against Rakuzan. It was easily the proudest moment of his life.

Furihata pulled open his front door and called out to his mom before heading up to his room before dinner. He set his bag down and flopped on his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. He lifted his right hand and spread his fingers in front of his face, studying his pinky finger and the little red string tied around it.

 _The proudest moment of my life,_ Furihata thought to himself. Or at least it had been, before _she_ ground it into the dirt.

Even now, Furihata couldn’t help but think of her whenever he looked at the string on his finger.

He had first met her in middle school. They had two classes together, and Furihata found himself attracted to her right from the start. It wasn’t surprising, really. He always seemed to fall for the same type. She was quiet, and always seemed to be by herself. She never looked lonely, though. Instead she had that sort of confidence about her, an air around her that said she didn’t need anyone else. And she was smart. So, incredibly smart.

When they both wound up at Seirin, Furihata still found himself drawn to her. By some stroke of luck, they even shared a class again. When they wound up being paired as partners for a project, Furihata decided to try his luck and ask her out.

He probably should have seen her reply coming. After all, he had no reason to expect someone as smart and pretty as her to accept someone like him.

 _“I’ll tell you what, Furihata-kun. If you can become the best at something, I’ll go on a date with you. That’s fair, right?_ ”

Furihata wasn’t sure if ‘fair’ was the word he would have used, but he see the point she was making. He was an average student with average grade, who had no noticeable skill. He understood the lack of appeal.

Which is what lead Furihata to joining the basketball club. He had played a few times with his brother when they were younger. Plus with Seirin being so new, he figured the team would be full of newbies like himself, so he wouldn’t stand out so much in terms of skill.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Not only were all the second years amazing in their own right, Kagami and Kuroko had immediately squashed any hopes he had of blending in. He never resented any of them for it, though. Instead he found himself amazed over and over again at the skill and dedication his teammates all had for the sport. Rather than giving up, he grew more inspired than ever to do all he could to help the team.

His reason for joining the club faded into the back of his mind as the school year went on. He made some great friends, the best he’s ever had, and finally felt like he had a place where he fit in. Furihata still talked to his crush whenever he got the chance. (Which was hard, considering she didn’t really talk much. She was usually reading, and it seemed impossible to pull her attention away from it.)

The first time she ever approached him was a few days before the Finals of the Winter Cup. Furihata had been early to lunch, and was reading while waiting for his friends to show up when she sat down next to him.

“I hear Seirin made it to the Finals,” she started, an eyebrow raised skeptically. “Think you’ll win?”

Furihata hoped the blush he could feel rising on his face wasn’t too noticeable. “Well...we’re facing a p-pretty tough team, but… I think we’ll definitely win!”

She had stared at him in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting the determination in his voice. She gave a slow nod before standing up. “I guess we’ll see. Good luck, Furihata-kun.”

The day of the match, Furihata had scanned the crowd eagerly, hoping she might have come to watch. He’d been disappointed at first when he didn’t see her, but looking back, he was sorta grateful. At least that way she wouldn’t know how he’d face-planted on the court, or that he was only subbed in for three minutes before being benched again.

It turned out bad enough anyway, without her knowing all the embarrassing details.

It had taken a few days after Seirin won before he really got the chance to talk to her. He realized later that the fact that she hadn’t made any move to approach him first probably wasn’t a good sign. But he’d been so excited, the buzz of their victory still fresh in his mind. Furihata felt like he was on top of the world, and that nothing could bring him down.

It was kinda pathetic, how easily she shattered that with one sentence.

_“I mean, yeah, you guys won, but not really because of you though, right? I heard you only scored one basket.”_

Furihata felt like a deflated balloon-all his confidence and happiness draining away in an instant. He felt humiliated, not only because he’d been naive enough to believe he really stood a chance with her, or that he had truly felt that he’d accomplished something he set out to do, or that his dream girl had just turned his moment of triumph into one of failure.

Even with all of that, the very worst reason was that Furihata knew she was _right._

His single basket didn’t mean anything. Those two points were not the reason that Seirin had won the Championship. Rakuzan was the highest ranked basketball team in the country, and Furihata had known from the start that he didn’t stand a chance against any of them. Their entire team, especially Akashi, were lightyears ahead of him in terms of skill. Looking back, Furihata figured the only way he managed to score in the first place was because the teammates of Rakuzan had figured he wasn’t even worth paying attention too.

Not that he could blame them. He remembered the way his knees had knocked together as he approached Akashi to guard him. If he were in Akashi’s shoes, Furihata wouldn’t have bothered keeping an eye on him either.

Furihata sat up abruptly, running his fingers through his hair. He needed to quit thinking about it, but it was hard. Running into Akashi definitely wasn’t helping his train of thought, and he had been miserable enough already, ever since the red string had shown up on his finger.

He traced a finger around the thread now, wondering for the millionth time who it might lead to. Furihata had foolishly hoped that maybe, after everything, it would lead back to his crush. He’d been a bit surprised when he felt the faintest rush of relief when he realized that wasn’t the case.

Furihata still felt _something_ for her, although he wasn’t sure what it was anymore. It was kinda hard to admire someone after they basically squashed his greatest achievement. Plus the idea of not knowing was kind of...exciting. The string meant that his perfect match was out there, somewhere. Someone new, someone he had never met before. Someone who, according to legend, would be just right for him.

His mom had told him stories of fate and soulmates ever since he was little, and Furihata had always loved hearing them. (Furihata blamed his mom for his love of cheesy romance novels, which was a secret he planned on taking to the grave.) He knew the whole idea was kinda ridiculous, but he believed anyway. There was something reassuring, thinking about how two people could be made for each other - another half, a missing piece, just waiting to be found.

Furihata like to believe that things happened for a reason. Sometimes it sucked, but other times it really helped him out. Finding out that his crush wasn’t his soulmate actually made him feel a little better about things not working out after the Winter Cup. He told himself that it meant that they clearly weren’t made for each other, and that something better was up ahead.

His mom was the only person Furihata had told about the string. He figured none of his teammates or friends would believe him, since he had no way to actually prove it. Most guys weren’t into that kinda thing anyway. His mom had been excited, though, and the piece of advice she gave him kept running through his head.

_“Just remember to keep an eye out, Kouki. Sometimes you have to look where you least expect it,” she smiled. “I learned that the hard way when I met your dad.”_

Furihata wasn’t entirely sure how to go about following her advice. Where he least expected? That could be literally anyone. The thought was both comforting and a little frightening. He constantly found his eyes flickering over to strangers fingers’ when they passed on the street, or glancing over at his classmates. He knew it was silly, to think that his soulmate would be someone he was already close with, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to look, just in case.

Soon enough his mom was calling him down for dinner. He tried his best to shove all those negative thoughts to the back of his mind, and to focus on the positives instead. He had a world of possibilities ahead of him, and he was working hard on improving his basketball skills. Next time Seirin faced off against strong opponents, Furihata wanted to be able to do all he could to help.

He wasn’t doing it for his crush. He wasn’t even doing it for his team, really. Furihata knew without a doubt that his teammates didn’t hold his shortcomings against him, not in the slightest. Instead they gave him all the support in the world, and were more than willing to give him any kind of tips or tricks they could. Sure, watching them everyday at practice gave him all kinds of encouragement, but mostly, Furihata wanted to improve for _himself._

The next day, after breakfast, Furihata grabbed a basketball and headed out the street court that was near his house. He’d been putting in overtime at practice, and had started doing some on his own on the weekends. It was a lot harder, without anyone to work with, but he used the time to brush up on his shooting and dribbling skills. He was still pretty clumsy with handling the ball, and he only felt a little confident making shots that were close to the hoop.

He started at the freethrow line, taking shot after shot until he made five in row. After retrieving the ball, he took a few steps to either side, rotating in a semi-circle at the same distance to practice different angles. He always had trouble with those, especially the ones where you couldn’t really depend on the backboard.

It took a while, but he finally hit his goal, making his way from one side of the net to the other. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he moved back to the freethrow line, only this time, he took several steps back, increasing the distance between him and the hoop.

It was grueling, and he was tempted to give up, after watching the ball either fall short, or hit the very bottom corner of the backboard. Furihata grabbed the ball and dribbled in place at the spot he had set for himself. He wasn’t going to go home until he made this shot.

He gripped the ball between his hands, eyeing up the hoop. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the little red square on the backboard. If he could hit it just right, the ball would fall right in…

Furihata bent his knees, preparing to jump, when a voice called out behind him.

“You should try moving your hands further apart.”

A yelp of surprise left his mouth as the ball flew out of Furihata’s hands and clanged loudly off the rim. He whirled on his feet, stumbling back as his eyes landed on the last person he expected to see standing behind him.

Akashi.

A million questions rushed through his head as he tried to make sense of the image in front of him. Why was Akashi here? What was he even doing in Tokyo? How did he find him? Oh god, did he know where Furihata lived? How long had he been watching? Why would he even bother?

Fear gripped Furihata’s heart like a vise. There was only one reason Akashi would have hunted him down like this.

He was angry, probably over Furihata’s rude behavior yesterday. He had tried to apologize, but…

“Forgive me for startling you,” Akashi said calmly, pulling Furihata from his thoughts. “I had no intention of breaking your concentration.”

Furihata stared, trying to make sense of the words. He felt frozen in place, just like the first time he’d seen Akashi.

Akashi took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them, when the full reality of the situation hit Furihata like a freight train.

His knees wobbled as he fumbled back a step, holding his hands in front of him apologetically. “I-I-If this is about y-yesterday, then, u-um, I’m r-r-really sorry! I-I really d-didn’t mean…” He trailed off, his voice growing shakier and shakier with every word. His eyes flickered to the side slightly, and he realized that Akashi was standing between him and the opening of the fenced-in court.

Akashi tipped his head to the side, his brows furrowing. “Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here. Kuroko told me you often come here on the weekends, and I see he was not mistaken.”

Furihata wondered what he could have possibly done to the phantom player to warrant this level of betrayal. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, waiting to meet his untimely end.

Akashi reached into the bag that was slung over his shoulder, and pulled something out that made Furihata’s eyes widen in shock.

His book.

“I believe you forgot something,” Akashi said with a smile. He held the book out to Furihata. “I’m afraid you had already left by the time the time I noticed.”

Furihata blinked, and then blinked again. Akashi was...returning his book? He talked to Kuroko...to find out where Furihata was...just so he could bring it to him?

He looked at the book in Akashi’s stretched-out hand, and then up to his face. Akashi was watching him with an expression that, if Furihata didn’t know any better, almost looked _guilty._

Furihata swallowed loudly, and took a step forward. Then another. His legs wobbled with each step, but he held his course. He reached out with one trembling hand and took the book from Akashi, clutching it to his chest.

“U-Um...thank you! A lot,” he stammered, bowing his head. “You r-really didn’t h-have to, uh...come all this w-way.” Akashi probably had a million other things he could be doing, but instead he was here. Furihata’s mind raced, trying to make sense of this crazy situation, but he kept coming up blank.

Furihata straightened, and noticed that Akashi’s mouth had pulled up in another small smile. “I assure you, it was no trouble at all.” His tone was polite, but also a little stern, somehow. “After all, I was equally responsible for our little mishap yesterday. It was the least I could do.”

Furihata blanched, shaking his head quickly. “I-It’s fine, really! I, uh, th-thank you. Again. It w-was really n-nice of y-you.”

It _was_ really nice, and Furihata was surprised by it. Not that he thought Akashi was _mean_ , exactly. It just seemed sort of...beneath him, somehow, to take time out of his day to help Furihata. After all, it’s not like they really knew each other. They definitely weren’t friends, not by a long shot. Furihata still didn’t know why Akashi would bother in the first place.

Blinking out of his thoughts, Furihata realized that Akashi was still standing in front of him. Anxiety coiled in his stomach. What was he suppose to do now? He said thank you...but maybe Akashi was waiting for something more? He wrung his hands against the cover of his book, his palms sweating.

Before he could launch into a full blown panic attack, Akashi spoke again, his eyes focused on the basketball hoop behind Furihata.

“I do apologize for interrupting your practice,” Akashi said. His eyes flickered back to Furihata, and he nodded toward the ball that had rolled against fence. “You should attempt your shot again. You were getting closer.”

Furihata’s pulse hammered in his ears. “O-Oh, um…” He looked around, desperate for some way out of this situation. The idea of continuing his pathetic attempt at practice in front of Akashi was terrifying, to say the least. It was bad enough that Akashi had apparently been watching him long enough to comment on his slow progress.

“Yeah, s-sure,” he finally muttered, voice quivering. Furihata didn’t see anyway out of this, so he figured it would be better to just get it over with. Besides, Akashi already knew how weak he was. It wasn’t like it could get much worse at this point. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall on his face this time…

Furihata turned and set his book down near his bag before stumbling over to get the ball. With the way his hands were trembling, there was no way he was going to make the shot. He dribbled carefully, fully aware of Akashi’s eyes on him. It made his skin shiver.

Akashi moved aside, standing between Furihata and the hoop, off to the side. Furihata stood back at the spot he’d been shooting from before Akashi had shown up. He wiped his palms against his shorts, drying them of sweat, before gripping the ball between his hands.

His eyes flickered over to Akashi briefly, his heart pounding in his chest. Akashi met his gaze and gave an encouraging nod, his keen eyes watching intently. Furihata swallowed nervously before trying to focus on the hoop, crouching down, the ball raised in his hands.

Furihata let out a slow breath, jumped, and shot.

It looked like the ball was going to go in, at first. He’d shot pretty straight ,and Furihata felt hope for a fraction of a second before noticing that the ball was going to fall short again.

Sure enough, the ball missed the rim by a couple of inches, hitting the court and bouncing off to the side. Furihata’s face burned with embarrassment at having failed such a simple shot in front of someone as skilled as Akashi. He looked at his feet, shame washing over him.

“That was close,” Akashi said easily, and Furihata glanced up. “Your aim is accurate, you simply need to put more force behind your shots.”

Furihata stood in stunned silence as Akashi retrieved the ball. Not only was Akashi not making fun of him, but he was...complimenting him? And...giving him advice? Furihata’s head spun.

Akashi dribbled a few times before passing the ball back to Furihata. He caught the ball with surprise, staring at Akashi with a dumbfounded expression.

“Try again,” Akashi told him, his eyes strangely bright. “This time, try moving your dominate hand further up the ball. That will give you a little more force.”

Furihata blinked. He looked from the ball in his hands, to Akashi, then up to the hoop, and then back to the ball again. None of this made any sense, and Furihata felt like he was in some sort of alternate universe.

He dribbled a few times and crouched down again. He studied the way his hands were positioned on the ball, noticing that they were pretty close together. Furihata slid his right hand up a little, feeling it out. For some reason, he glanced over at Akashi, seeking confirmation that this was what he wanted. Akashi studied his hands for a second before meeting his gaze and nodding, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile again.

 _Please go in, please go in_ , Furihata chanted to himself. He jumped and shot, the ball flying straight toward the hoop again. Furihata held his breath, trying to force the ball to go in by sheer willpower. The ball hit the rim and rolled slowly around, teetering on the edge. The world seemed to stop as the ball wavered, before finally tilting, and dropping through the net with a soft _swish._

Furihata stared, not daring to believe what he’d just seen. He really made the shot. The shot he’d been trying to make for hours now. He looked at the ball, and then slowly turned his wide-eyed gaze to Akashi.

Akashi had a satisfied smile on his face as he looked at Furihata. He nodded in approval before laughing, a soft chuckle that sounded strangely musical. It was the first time Furihata had ever heard him laugh, and it only added to the weirdness of the situation.

“Forgive me,” Akashi said, red eyes full of amusement. “You just look so surprised.”

Furihata felt his face heat up. He looked away, glancing at the basketball hoop, his mouth still partially hanging open. “I am,” he responded faintly.

“You shouldn’t be,” Akashi said, pulling Furihata’s attention back. “You’re a talented player.”

At that, Furihata had to stop himself from laughing. It was ridiculous, Furihata thought. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with his empty hands. Akashi had said the words so seriously, but Furihata couldn’t help but think they were mocking. His shoulders bunched up defensively.

“I-I’m not,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You k-know that. I-I mean...y-ou know…”

 _You know I was useless against you_ , is what Furihata wanted to say. He didn’t want to argue with Akashi, not in a million years. It sounded to him like Akashi was making fun of him, but Furihata couldn’t image why he would feel the need to. Furihata already knew how terrible he was, and someone as smart as Akashi had to know that.

Furihata stared at the ground, his ears burning. Standing in front of Akashi only made him painfully aware of how unskilled he really was. He could practice as hard as he could for the rest of his life, probably, and still be nowhere near Akashi’s level. It suddenly seemed useless, to try and improve. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home and...

“Furihata-kun.”

Furihata glanced up, noticing immediately that Akashi was several steps closer. He resisted the urge to take a step back. Instead he stood still, hands trembling, waiting for the worst.

“I’d like to apologize to you,” Akashi said as he took another step closer. Furihata blinked in surprise again. What on earth could _Akashi_ possibly have to apologize to _him_ for? He waited for Akashi to continue, not knowing what to expect. “For my behavior, during our match.

“Your...what?” Furihata asked, confusion and surprise coloring his tone.

Akashi had that guilty look again as he continued. “I underestimated you, and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have treated you with the respect you deserved, and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t. I sincerely apologize.”

Furihata’s brain felt like that one time his brother’s computer had overheated-totally fried. The words ‘ _You did treat me fairly. I’m not even worthy to stand on the same court as you_ ’ ran through his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them outloud. His mouth opened and closed dumbly for a few seconds before being able to reply.

“I--No! I m-mean...it was n-nothing, really. I-I’m not v-very good.” Furihata looked at the ground again, shuffling his feet. He felt so pathetic…

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” Akashi said, with that weird authority in his tone again. “I watched your match against Kaijo. You managed to control the entire court. That is not something to easily dismiss.”

Furihata’s snapped his mouth shut, realizing that it had been hanging open while Akashi was talking. It wasn’t surprising, Furihata thought, that Akashi had watched the semi-finals. But it came as an absolute shock that Akashi would bother remembering Furihata’s short time on the court. With flaming cheeks, he remembers how he’d fumbled the ball, nearly giving it to the other team…

“You also scored against Rakuzan in the Finals,” Akashi continued. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but that is no small task. You should have some confidence.”

 _The proudest moment of my life_ … The words ran through his head in overdrive. He had been confident, for a while, after making the shot. Right after the game, he might have been able to believe Akashi. But now…

_“You didn’t win because of you though, right? I heard you only scored one basket.”_

Furihata swallowed. His mouth felt strangely dry, suddenly. He was hyper-aware of Akashi’s eyes on him, watching, waiting for a response. Furihata shrugged his shoulders, speaking so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“It was o-only one basket...I didn’t r-really do anything…”

Akashi responded almost immediately, his eyebrows pinched together in the middle. “Seirin won by one point, correct?” He waited until Furihata nodded to continue. “Then I believe your basket was insurmountably important. Without it, Seirin could have lost.”

Furihata looked up fully now, completely floored. He read Akashi’s expression, trying to find even a little amusement, or teasing, or mockery anywhere, but all he saw was sincerity. Akashi looked genuine, and that alone made the whole thing even harder to comprehend. It all honestly, it was single-handedly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

“Um...thank you,” Furihata murmured quietly, still in shock. “I...I don’t...I don’t know what to say…”

Akashi’s mouth curled up in a smile. “You don’t need to say anything, Furihata-kun. I simply hope you can start appreciating your own talent. I do, for what it’s worth.”

Furihata had no clue what to say. Or do. Or what to think or feel, for that matter. That fact that someone as incredible as Akashi recognized his non-existent skill… He stood still, wondering what could possible happen next. At this rate, Furihata almost expected to grow wings and be able fly away. It wouldn’t have been the most unbelievable thing that happened today.

“Do you come here often?” Akashi asked suddenly. “To practice, I mean?”

“Um,” Furihata’s brain felt sluggish-it was hard to think straight. “I g-guess. I’ve been s-staying over at p-practice, and I u-usually come here on the w-weekends.

Akashi’s eyes widened just a fraction before his expression cooled. “Your dedication to basketball is admirable. Not many people possess the determination to improve themselves, regardless of skill level.”

Furihata felt blood rush to his face. He wasn’t use to being complimented like this, especially by someone so talented. He felt embarrassed and strangely flustered, and impossibly self conscious. He scrapped his shoe across the tarmac.

“It’s n-nothing much,” Furihata said quietly. “I figure it’s t-the least I c-could do…”

Akashi nodded, tilting his head a little. “Regardless, it is a step most are unwilling to endure.” He was quiet for a moment, watching Furihata with an unreadable expression. It looked like he was deep in thought, and Furihata felt anxiety creep up his spine, wondering what it could be.

When he finally spoke, Akashi’s tone was full of resolve. “I hope you won’t take offence, but I’ll be frequenting Tokyo much more often over the coming months. If you’re interested, I would be more than happy to assist you on the weekends.”

Furihata was speechless. He stared at Akashi with disbelief written all over this face for what felt like the thousandth time this afternoon. “I--you...wh-what?”

Akashi laughed again, quiet and gentle. “I would like to help you with practice, Furihata-kun. You have potential, more so than you realize.” Akashi paused, and that guilty look was back on his face. “Of course, I don’t intend to pressure you. If you would like to refuse, I won’t be insulted, I assure you.”

Furihata hurriedly fumbled for a response. “N-No! I mean...I a-appericate it, really. I just…” He picked at a stray thread on the hem of his shirt, unwilling to meet Akashi’s eyes. “I’m s-sure you have b-better things to do, a-and you already brought m-my book back, so…”

“As I said, it was no trouble at all.” Furihata peeked up to see Akashi still watching him, his eyebrow knitted together. “And I would be available most of the day on Saturday afternoon. It wouldn't be an inconvenience in the slightest.”

Panic rose in his chest as he tried to think of a response. The idea of practicing with Akashi was intimidating, to put it lightly. Even just standing here talking to him was taking all of his concentration. He remembers how it felt, to stand against Akashi on the court, and shivers at the memory. At least that had been an official game, with his teammates close by. If Furihata agreed now, they would be alone. One-on-one with Akashi Seijuurou…

But then Furihata thinks about the basket he just made, with Akashi’s help, and wonders if the humiliation and dread that was sure to come might be worth it.

Furihata feels sweat break out on his forehead, and his hands are trembling worse than ever under the pressure of an answer. Before his mind snaps in two, Akashi calls his attention back.

“How about this,” Akashi said calmly, stepping forward. He digs in his bag again and pulls out a small notebook and a pen. He flips to an empty page and writes something down before tearing the piece out. He hands it to Furihata, who takes it out of reflex more than anything.

Furihata glances at it, and feels a fresh wave of bewilderment and shock wash over him. Written on the paper in elegant writing, is Akashi’s phone number.

Furihata is officially one hundred percent sure he’s dreaming. Or having a nightmare. He isn’t sure which one makes more sense.

“If you decide you’d like my assistance, I hope you’ll feel free to message me. If not...then I suppose I’ll see you at the next tournament.” Akashi returns the notebook and pen to his bag while Furihata tries to get his brain to work. By the time Akashi looks back up, Furihata managed a small nod, the paper clutched in his hands.

“Th-thank you,” Furihata stammers again, bowing his head.

Akashi nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re very welcome.”

“Um, I-I guess I’ll s-see you around?” Furihata doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it does. Whether he accepts Akashi help or not, they’re pretty much guaranteed to run into each other again. He starts backing away, intending to start collecting his stuff, when Akashi’s next words halt him in his tracks.

“Furihata-kun…” Suddenly Akashi’s voice isn’t lighthearted, like before. There’s weight behind it now, like he doesn’t want to say whatever he’s about to say. When Furihata looks at him he sees that Akashi’s lips are pressed into a hard line, his brows pulled low over his eyes. “I’ve been debating on whether I should inform you or not, but after this conversation, it feels...cruel. To not tell you.”

Furihata goes still, his veins coursing with adrenaline again. He doesn’t like this; doesn’t like where this is going at all. He glances at his bag, shoved up against the fence, and feels the urge to grab it and run. He looked back at Akashi and decides that's a risk he doesn't want to take.

“Wh-what is it-t-t?" He stuttered, feeling completely helpless.

Akashi eyes him up, seeming strangely focused on his hands that are twisting with each other nervously.

“Would you mind accompanying me to a nearby cafe?”

Furihata desperately wants to say no, but decides pretty quickly that saying _no_  to Akashi Seijuurou probably isn’t good for his health. He nods weakly, barely managing a whispered “sure”.

Akashi waits while he gathers up his stuff. It takes longer than it should, with the way his fingers keep fumbling trying to get the zipper to shut. He takes deep breaths, and tries to calm himself down with little success. Finally he gets his bag shut and slings the strap around his shoulder, his heart pounding loud in his ears.

He meets Akashi at the opening in the fence, footsteps stumbling, and walks forward to meet his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this was originally going to be way shorter, and include the whole conversation at the cafe, and then a bunch of stuff afterwords, but I got caught up in writing Furihata angst and this got super long, so I decided to break it into two parts. 
> 
> Hopefully I'm back soon!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://humanitys-shortest-soldier.tumblr.com/) if you want news on updates!


	3. A Cruel Trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, these chapters just keep getting longer and longer. Sorry for the long wait, once again. I hope it's worth it!
> 
> Enjoy!

Furihata followed Akashi to a small cafe just a few blocks away, feet dragging against the pavement the whole way. Akashi walked a few steps ahead, and Furihata found his eyes nervously flickering between the other’s back and the ground. There was a tension in the air that made it hard to breathe. Furihata wrung his hands against the strap of his bag, his head full of the hundred different ways this could go wrong.

Why would Akashi want to talk to him alone? Well, they were already alone, technically. So why couldn’t Akashi just say whatever he wanted to say on the court? Was is so bad that Akashi wanted witnesses around? What more could he possibly have to say anyway? He’d already said way more than Furihata had ever expected. Nice things, too, which Furihata still couldn’t comprehend. He didn’t think things could get any weirder, but now here he was, following Akashi to a cafe, with no idea why.

Akashi stopped and gazed up at a storefront, and Furihata ground to a halt beside him. He recognized the name, having been there a few times before with his parents, but not recently. Nowadays he mostly hung out at Maji Burger with his friends from Seirin.

“Shall we?” Akashi asked suddenly, nodding towards the building.

Furihata desperately wished his phone would ring, maybe with a call from his mom or Fukuda or _someone_. Anything to give him an excuse to leave. Maybe he could fake one…? Or say he had something really important he forgot at home…

Furihata swallowed loudly, his hands tightening their grip on his bag. “U-Um...o-o-okay.”

Akashi led the way inside, choosing a booth in the far corner near a window. He slid smoothly into a seat while Furihata tried his best not to collapse into his.

“Order anything you like,” Akashi told him, reaching for a menu. “I’ll cover the expenses, since I asked you here.”

Furihata wanted to object, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak with how dry his throat felt. Instead he nodded meekly, reaching out and grabbing a menu with trembling fingers. He tried to hold it steady, but the letters and numbers kept blurring across the page.

He ended up only ordering a glass of water, because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, and because he was pretty sure it was all his stomach could handle right now, with the way it felt a little like it was turning inside out. Akashi ordered a cup of tea and a small plate of cookies, which he politely pushed to the center of the table when their order arrived. Furihata wrapped both hands around his glass, staring into the clear liquid, waiting.

After what felt like an eternity, Akashi sighed. Furihata glanced up and found Akashi staring at him with that almost-guilty look again. His brows were pinched together in the middle, like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I must admit, I’m uncertain how to begin this conversation, since I never planned on having it,” Akashi began slowly. “But after speaking with you this afternoon, I would rather get it out of the way now, then have it come up later. I would hate for it to appear as though I was keeping things from you.”

Furihata blinked, nodding dumbly, still at a loss as to where this conversation was headed.

“I suppose the easiest course of action would be to simply _show_ you, rather than trying to explain it myself.”

“W-What do y-you--” Furihata began, only to fall silent as Akashi lifted his left from under the table, where it had been since they’d taken their seats. He was confused, until Akashi curled his first three fingers into a fist, leaving his pinky finger pointing straight up.

When Furihata noticed the delicate red string around his finger, everything seemed to _stop._

His brain froze, refusing the process the image in front of him. He knew that this meant something, something _big_ , but at the moment, he couldn’t remember what it was. _Wouldn’t_ remember.

His mouth moved on his own, his mind still reeling. “H-Hey! You h-have one too...” Even as he held out his own hand, pinky finger extended, a cold dread was creeping over him. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, but the realization still eluded him.

Until suddenly, all at once, the missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

He could see Akashi’s string. And obviously, Akashi could see his. He thought back to the basketball court earlier, remembering how Akashi had seemed oddly focused on his hands…

Furihata’s own thoughts echoed through his head, the words playing over and over in rapid succession.

_“...his perfect match was out there....”_

_“...someone who would be just right for him…”_

_“...another half, a missing piece, just waiting to be found…”_

Furihata wished he could tell what his expression looked like right now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He stared at Akashi’s hand, feeling oddly numb. He kept blinking over and over again, like somehow it would erase the sight in front of him.

Silence hung over the table like a cloud. Furihata wasn’t even sure he was capable of breathing anymore, let alone speaking. He couldn’t even bring himself to look over at Akashi, to see if this was some huge prank or something. He desperately hoped it was.

“A-Akashi-kun...why can I see your string?” Furihata finally asked. His voice sounded strangely calm, even to his own ears. _Please be a joke, please be a joke, please be a joke…_

Akashi lowered his hand, folding it over the other in front of him on the table. “For the same reason, I imagine, that I can see yours,” he answered, his eyebrows scrunching together again. “I noticed it yesterday, when we ran into each other.”

 _He noticed it yesterday!?_ Furihata thought with alarm. That meant that Akashi knew the entire time today, while they were on the court. He knew it when he was bringing Furihata’s book back. He knew when he was saying all those nice things earlier. He knew when he invited him to come here…

Furihata felt the blood drain from his face. This wasn’t… this couldn’t be…

He shook his head quickly, refusing to let himself finish the sentence.

“Furihata-kun,” Akashi said, pulling him out of his thoughts. His heart pounded in his ears, and he was biting his lip so hard he wondered if he would draw blood.

“While I won’t pretend to know your thoughts on the matter, I have no trouble stating mine.” Akashi spoke seriously, his eyes strangely focused. Chills ran down Furihata’s spine. “This… legend, for lack of a better word, is not something I place a great deal of faith in. Or any, for that matter.”

Furihata stared, trying to make sense of what the other was saying, but his brain felt like mush. Akashi continued. “My original plan was simply to return your book and part ways, but I changed my mind after our conversation. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I thought it would be best, especially if we were to run into each other again in the future.”

Furihata was suddenly hyper-aware of the sheet of paper with Akashi’s phone number on it sitting in his bag. Was that what he meant, about seeing each other again?

As if reading his thoughts, Akashi spoke again. “I was sincere, about assisting you with practice, if you’d like. This,” Akashi raised his hand again, “did not affect my judgement regarding the matter in the slightest. Today’s events would have followed the same course whether this was present or not.” Akashi paused for a moment, his head tilting to the side just a little, his crimson eyes full of concern. “Of course, I mean no offense. It’s nothing personal, I assure you. The concept of fate and destiny are outside constructs I’ve never been able to understand. I prefer to create my own fate, rather than relying on some mythological force to do it for me.”

Furihata repeated Akashi’s words over and over in his head. It took a full minute for him to process everything, and even then, he wasn’t sure. Nothing seemed _real_ anymore.

“S-S-So...y-ou don’t-t…” Furihata’s voice was faint, barely above a whisper. His lips quivered with every word. The tension could be cut with a knife, and it made it hard to breathe right.

Akashi looked troubled, leaning forward slightly. “Are you alright? If I insulted you, I sincerely didn’t--”

“N-No!” Furihata interrupted. “I-I just...I d-don’t…” His ribs felt like they were caving in on each other. He’d never felt this helpless in his entire life.

“...I don’t-t b-believe in i-it either,” Furihata finished quietly.

It wasn’t even a lie, like it should have been. Furihata had believed in this sort of thing since he was little. But now, with his other half -- _Akashi Seijuurou-_ \- staring him in the face, he couldn’t. Not anymore.

How could he? Akashi was literally his polar opposite. He was insanely smart, and talented, and terrifyingly perfect. It was laughable to even think that someone like _that_ could be meant for someone like _him._ Furihata was painfully ordinary, in every conceivable way. They weren’t even from the same world.

Furihata was grateful that at least Akashi didn’t seem to believe in any of it. Because if Akashi _did_ believe, he could easily imagine the level of disappointment he would have felt when he found out _Furihata_ was supposedly his soulmate. His opinion would probably instantly change, just like Furihata’s did.

There was no way he was Akashis’ soulmate, and there was definitely no way he was _Akashi’s._

Furihata breathed a small sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing just a little. This was a mistake, that was all. A cruel trick of fate.

Akashi seemed to relax as well, a tiny smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Well, that’s reassuring to hear. I was concerned I had upset you.”

“N-No, um, it’s j-just… I d-didn’t expect this. When you s-said you w-wanted to talk.” Furihata’s breath came a little easier, now that some of the tension had let up. It was still intimidating, though, to be sharing a small space with Akashi like this. Even sitting, there was an unusual sort of grace about him, a commanding air that never seemed to fade. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Akashi smiled again. “I apologize for worrying you. To be honest, I was unsure of your reaction.”

Furihata was dumbfounded at that - what did Akashi think was going to happen? Was he worried that Furihata was suddenly going to develop feelings for him just because of the string? He couldn’t really think that Furihata was conceited enough to believe he stood a chance with him even if he did, right?

“O-Oh, um,” Furihata gave a weak laugh. “You d-don’t need to w-worry. It’s f-fine, really.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Akashi said.

They parted ways soon after. Akashi had tried to keep up conversation, asking polite questions about practice and talking about upcoming exams. Furihata had replied as best he could, meaning that he stared at the table a lot and tried not to sound like a total idiot when he answered. He was too afraid to make any attempts to ask Akashi anything, and he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind to begin with.

Akashi had left him with a simple “Have a pleasant evening, Furihata-kun,” before walking away. Furihata had stared at his retreating figure before quickly turning on his heel and heading home.

He was pretty sure this was the longest day of his life.

Dinner was rough, since his mom picked up on his bad mood right away. She kept asking him if he wanted to talk about, and had told her no. Not yet, at least. He felt bad, since he didn’t usually keep things from her, but he didn’t know how to explain what had happened today.

_“I found my ‘soulmate’ today. Apparently it’s this super talented guy I met during basketball, and it would be great except that he’s kinda terrifying and literally so far out of my league we’re not even on the same planet. Oh, and he’s also doesn’t even believe in this kind of thing, which even if he did, there’s no way I would because it’s **Akashi Seijuurou** , who’s somehow the most intimidating and perfect person I’ve ever met. He also said a whole bunch of nice things to me at the basketball court today, and I have no idea why since he knows how awful I am at it, but he actually helped me out and I don’t know what to do about it.”_

Furihata flopped face-first onto his bed after dinner, burying his face in his pillow. Despite being home for a couple of hours now, he still felt on edge. He kept replaying their conversation at the cafe over and over.

He kept going to back to one thing Akashi had said, about how he had just planned on returning his book and leaving. Furihata wondered what had happened to make Akashi change his mind. All they had really talked about was basketball…

 _“I believe your basket was insurmountably important,”_ Akashi had said to him. Looking back, that still might have been the most unbelievable thing Akashi had told him. He couldn’t really think that, could he?

Furihata pulled up memories of their match at the Winter Cup, not of his own time on the court, but of watching Akashi. Sure, he’d been cheering his team on to victory, but another part of him had been amazed at watching Akashi play. He remembers the shock he felt when he watched Akashi dunk over Kagami. In a weird way, it had given him a little bit of hope. After all, despite what his overwhelming presence suggested, Akashi wasn’t much taller than Furihata. If Akashi could do all this incredible things, maybe someday, he could too.

Furihata groaned in frustration and rolled over on his back, taking his pillow with him to throw over his face. Great, now he was back to thinking about basketball again. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what was worse - thinking about his pathetic skills on the court or how he was probably going to be alone for the rest of his life since the whole soulmate thing turned to be a fluke.

He knew he was being over dramatic, at least about the second part. Just because the string hadn’t worked out didn’t mean he wouldn’t find someone else, someday. He tried to look on the bright side. (He had always been an optimist, even though his thoughts sometimes veered in the opposite direction.) Since he knew who the string led to now, he could quit searching for them. A world of possibilities was open to him once again, and he was unbound by anything.

Furihata pulled the pillow off his face to lift his hand, spreading his fingers apart and eyeing the little thread looped around his pinky. It was kind of disturbing, how quickly Akashi came to mind. It probably didn’t help that the string was nearly the same color as his hair.

He leaned over the side of the bed and snatched his bag off the floor, digging through it until he found the folded piece of paper Akashi had given him. He smoothed the creases out, eyes scanning the numbers written on it. _I should just throw it out,_ Furihata thought to himself. _It’s not like I’m ever gonna actually call him anyway._

It’s not like Akashi could really want to practice with him. He was probably just being nice, like he was at Kuroko’s party. Even that small reasoning behind Akashi’s behavior didn’t sound right, but it was the only thing Furihata could come up with that made sense.

Furihata shoved the note back into the bottom of this bag, determined to forgot all about it. With any luck, he wouldn’t see Akashi again until the next tournament. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, very pointedly avoiding any thoughts of basketball, or strings, or Akashi.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Furihata figured out pretty quickly that it’s basically impossible to avoid thinking about basketball when you were literally _playing_ it. It’s wasn’t really all that worse than what it had been before, but Furihata still found himself remembering bits and pieces of his and Akashi’s conversation from the weekend.

When Seirin was practicing shooting drills, Furihata caught himself thinking about the advice Akashi had given him, about adjusting the way he held the ball before he shot. Now that he’s thinking about it, he does notice the subtle way he had been putting his hands pretty close together, not really getting a firm grip, and that his teammates held the ball more like how Akashi had shown him.

Maybe it’s his imagination, but Furihata is pretty sure that he makes more baskets that week than he ever had at practice before.

On Saturday, he thinks about heading to the street court again, like he usually did on his days off. It’s not until he’s grabbing his bag that he’s reminded of the crumpled piece of paper that’s at the bottom.

_Would Akashi be there…?_

Furihata shoves the thought aside, deciding to stay at home and study for exams instead. The weekend passed uneventfully, the only highlight being when Fukuda and Kawahara invited him out to the small arcade a few blocks away. It was fun, to hang out with his friends and not have to worry and overthink, like he had been. He was able to shove the whole mess from last weekend out of this mind, even if it was only temporary.

Unfortunately, everything came rushing back Tuesday after school, when Seirin held a practice match against another local high school. The team wasn’t very big, and it was mostly a training exercise for the coaches to give the first years an opportunity to play in a real game. Furihata had been excited, at first, when Riko announced it. He had spent nearly all of the past season on the bench. And even the two times he’d been subbed in, the matches were against teams with a member of the Generation of Miracles. Furihata never stood a chance.

He had foolishly hoped, after watching the other team warm up, that maybe he could make a difference in this game. The players looked strong, but not the crazy-level of talented that Furihata had seen during the Winter Cup.

Their starting line-up didn’t consist of any regulars, much to Kagami’s disappointment. Kagami always got fidgety when he didn’t get to play, and Furihata was amused to see that Kuroko was attempting the keep the larger boy calm. Although for all his light teasing, Kuroko seemed just as eager to play as Kagami did.

Seirin ended up winning by the skin of their teeth, much to everyone's relief. The small victory was enough to get everyone buzzing, but as Furihata walked behind Fukuda and Koga to the locker room, he couldn’t help feeling discouraged. Sure, he’d almost gotten to play a full game, but he still didn’t really _do_ anything to help win. He only scored twice, and despite making some okay passes, he mostly felt invisible on the court, and not in the useful way.

A storm cloud seemed to hang over his head for the rest of the day. He even turned down an invitation to go out to Maji Burger after the game, insteading finding it easier to go home and sulk. He didn’t want his bad mood to affect everyone else.

The next day when he heads to the library with Kuroko, his thoughts are still in a tangled mess, replaying scenes from yesterday’s game over and over in his head. He thinks about how he should have passed here, or how it would have made more sense for him to shoot at one point instead of another.

Kuroko hands him another stack of books to reshelve, and Furihata kneels down, placing them back in the right spot. The two of them almost always worked together, since it made the job easier, and it was nice to have someone to talk to. Usually the two of them kept up a quiet conversation, talking about basketball or books. Sometimes Kuroko would have a funny story to tell about some ridiculous thing Kagami and done, but today, both of them were strangely silent.

Furihata stood back up, turning to Kuroko to grab more books, when he noticed the odd look on the other’s face. Kuroko’s thin brows were slightly pinched in the middle, looking as though he was deep in thought. Pale blue eyes met Furihata’s, and he knew instantly that Kuroko was reading him.

“Furihata-kun,” Kuroko said quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

Dread pooled in Furihata’s stomach at the question. He knows what’s coming next, because it’s _Kuroko_ , and Kuroko always saw everything. Not that Furihata expected his downcast mood to go unnoticed, since he didn’t exactly try to hide it. He just hoped that no one would bother to ask.

He knows that if he told Kuroko he didn’t want to talk about it, that he would leave the subject alone. Kuroko was polite, and didn’t butt into people’s business very often. He wasn’t one to meddle, and that was one of the many qualities that Furihata liked about him.

But part of him sort of wanted to talk to someone, and given the circumstances, Kuroko was the perfect person. Kuroko knew Akashi for years, and if anyone could explain the redhead’s unusual behavior, it would be him.

When Furihata nodded reluctantly, Kuroko continued. “I couldn’t help but notice that you have seemed troubled recently, and that is not like you. I understand if you would prefer not to talk about it, but if you choose to, I want you to know that I will gladly listen.”

Furihata couldn’t help but smile a little, at Kuroko’s kindness. “I know,” he said. “And thanks. Really. It’s just…” He took a deep breath and blew it out noisily, trying to get the right words to come out with it. “Something happened the other day, and it was really weird, and I guess I’m just sorta confused about the whole thing.”

Kuroko remained silent, waiting for Furihata to continue. Furihata grabbed a handful books, hoping, that it would be easier to explain the situation if his hands were busy.

“Well… it’s about A-Akashi, actually,” Furihata began.

“Oh,” Kuroko said suddenly. “I forgot to ask about that. Was he able to return your book?”

Furihata nodded. “Yeah, he found me. At the street court. It was, um… really nice of him.”

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of the phantoms lips for a moment before disappearing. “Was that the strange part? Or did something else happen with Akashi-kun?”

Furihata chewed on his lower lip for a moment, debating the consequences, before opening his mouth. “Well, um, what happened was…”

He spilled the whole story, telling Kuroko everything that had happened that day. (Except for the part after, about the conversation at the cafe. Furihata was pretty sure that Akashi wouldn’t tell anyone himself, and he wasn’t in any hurry to talk about the joke that fate was playing on them either.) Furihata repeated all the incredibly nice things Akashi had told him on the court, from talking about Furihata’s basket at the Finals to helping him shoot. When he got to the part about Akashi offering to help him, and the whole number-giving thing, Kuroko raised his eyebrows.

Kuroko remained quiet for a moment after Furihata finished his story. He shifted his feet, anxiously awaiting the phantom’s response.

“To begin with, I agree with Akashi-kun’s assessment,” Kuroko began in that quiet- but- intense way of his. “You do not give yourself enough credit, Furihata-kun. You have improved greatly since joining the team. I wish you would see that.”

Furihata blushed at the complement, averting his eyes back to the shelves of books. He wasn’t use to being told things like this, especially straight to his face, and let alone by someone that he looked up to and admired. It had been pretty easy to pass Akashi’s praise off as an attempt to be nice, but with Kuroko, Furihata had a much harder time denying the sincerity in the words.

“Now that I think about it,” Kuroko went on, bringing a finger up to his chin. “It makes sense that Akashi-kun would offer his guidance. He has always been skilled at bringing out people’s talents. That is one of the many reasons why he was promoted to captain so quickly in both middle and high school.”

Furihata turned back to Kuroko, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, but… I mean, I don’t really _have_ any talents. I’m just an average player.”

“Akashi-kun doesn’t seem think so,” Kuroko retorted. He paused for a moment. “Do you remember the story I told everyone before the Winter Cup Finals, about how I came to play on the first string in Teiko?”

Furihata nodded, remembering how they had all gathered at Kagami’s apartment to hear the tale. “You said that you were practicing with Aomine, and then...” The point Kuroko was trying to make clicked into place, and Furihata had to stop himself from slapping a hand over his face. “When Akashi saw you, and gave you advice on how to use your lack of presence in a game, right?”

Kuroko smiled. “You are correct, Furihata-kun. Until then, I didn’t think I possessed any particular talents either. But Akashi-kun saw the potential, and guided me in the right direction to improve. I believe he is trying to do the same for you.”

Furihata shook his head a little, trying to clear it. He had hoped that by talking to Kuroko he would feel less confused, but instead he found it worse than ever.

“But why?” Furihata finally asked, exasperated. “I mean, you guys were on the same team and everything, so it makes sense that he would want to make his team stronger. But there’s no reason why he should want to help _me._ We barely know each other.”

“I can’t tell you the answer to that,” Kuroko responded. “But I do know that Akashi-kun does not say things he doesn’t mean. If he offered his help, he genuinely means it.”

Furihata ran a hand through his hair as Kuroko’s words echoed in his head. He busied himself with books for a moment while he tried to sort everything out. He didn’t know what to do with all the information he’d just been given, but he did know one thing.

“I guess...I’ll think about it?” Furihata finally said, turning back towards the other. “And thanks again. For listening to me. You always give really good advice. I would have said something sooner, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I understand,” Kuroko told him with that gentle smile again. “I am glad I could help.”

Furihata went home that day feeling more uplifted than he had in the last couple of days. Kuroko’s kind words made him feel better. After all, Kuroko knew better than anyone what it was like to have freakishly amazing teammates, even if Kuroko was one himself.

He also felt slightly better about the whole Akashi thing. At least Kuroko had been able to somewhat give him an explanation that made sense, even if the fact that it was about  _Furihata_  didn’t. It wasn’t hard to imagine Akashi being amazing at spotting potential in other people, but Furihata still couldn’t figure out what Akashi apparently saw in him.

He also didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it.

Furihata honestly wanted to get better at basketball. He loved his team, and while he fit right in with everyone off the court, he always felt a little like an outsider when he was on it. His teammates were nothing but encouraging and supportive, and he appreciated them for that, but he wanted to be able to help them. When they all played together at the next tournament, Furihata desperately wanted to feel like he _belonged._

The weird thing is that Furihata was pretty sure that if he were to accept Akashi’s help, he probably would get better. Remembering the story Kuroko had told them about Teiko only supported that. Akashi was clearly a good leader, and probably had tons of practice with helping others improve. It was easy to see why everyone followed him so willingly.

The only problem with the whole thing was that Akashi was also impossibly intimidating.

Just thinking about practicing one-on-one with Akashi made his stomach flip. Furihata was barely able to _talk_ to Akashi, let alone try to learn anything from him. And what if he screwed up? He could easily imagine Akashi trying to show him something, and Furihata messing it up repeatedly until Akashi got sick of it and realized he was wasting his time.

He wasn’t sure why the idea of disappointing Akashi bothered him so much. If anything, Akashi should know better than anyone how worthless he was, having gone up against him before.

_“...he saw the potential…I believe he trying to the same for you…”_

Did Kuroko really think that? Furihata already knew the answer to that - Kuroko never said anything he didn’t truly believe was right - but it was still hard to wrap his head around. The real question was did Akashi really think Furihata had any potential to begin with…

Furihata dug through his bag, dumping everything on the floor until the crumbled piece of paper fell out. He sat back down on his bed and smoothed out the note with trembling hands and a racing heart.

There was only one way to find out.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

Midorima nudged his glasses up with his middle finger, fixing his gaze on Akashi. “It seems strange to me, that you would offer to see him again.”

“What is it that you find strange?” Akashi asked, raising his cup to his lips.

“Aren’t you worried you might be giving the boy the wrong impression?”

Truth be told, Akashi _had_ been concerned about that, initially. His original plan had been to return Furihata’s book, with the intention to hopefully better the boy’s impression of him, and then leave. But after watching Furihata’s determination despite missing shot after shot, he’d gotten distracted. It was bizarre, to see someone maintain the same level of resolve with no noticeable results. He kept expecting Furihata to give up, only for him to continue pushing forward.

The string had only come to mind after offering his assistance, and he internally cursed his lapse in judgement. He hadn’t planned on mentioning the string at all, hoping instead that it would be long gone by the time he saw Furihata again. Akashi considered himself lucky, that Furihata hadn’t noticed already. Although now, if he took Akashi up on his offer, the odds of Furihata making the discovery skyrocketed.

Akashi quickly decided that he would be better off confronting the problem ahead of time, rather than having it come up unexpectedly later. And thankfully, the conversation had gone better than he hoped.

“I will admit that, yes, I was concerned at first,” Akashi answered slowly. “However, his views on the issue happen to align with my own.”

Akashi was grateful for that. For one thing, it avoided any awkwardness that was sure to arise if the the opposite were true. He also didn’t want to offend Furihata, and made sure to express the point that seeing who his string lead to had not affected his reasoning in the slightest.

“It still strikes me as odd that you would offer to spend time with him after discovering you were tied,” Midorima said, taking a sip of his tea.

Akashi raised his chin a fraction, and spoke with conviction in his tone. “It was an offer I would have made regardless. The way I see it, I am simply refusing to allow a piece of thread to control my life.”

Midorima raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So then… you’re both just going to ignore it?”

“Yes, I believe that is the agreed plan.” Akashi said. He hesitated, resting his chin on his closed fists. “Was that not the same decision you reached regarding Takao-kun?”

Akashi had meant it to be teasing, predicting a scoff or an eyeroll from the other. After their last discussion concerning the matter, Akashi had gained the impression that Midorima agreed with him, at least about the concept of soulmates.

He certainly didn’t expect to see the tiniest trace of a blush on his friend's cheek, or for him to lower his gaze to the table.

Perhaps they didn’t see as eye-to-eye as had Akashi thought.

There was an awkward pause before Midorima cleared his throat. “Yes… I suppose you’re right.”

Akashi wanted to say something about how that didn’t seem to be true, but kept quiet. If Midorima didn’t wish to speak on the subject, then Akashi would respect that decision.

Even still, he had to admit he was incredibly curious.

“What made you want to help him to begin with?” Midorima asked, and Akashi politely ignored the drastic subject change. “It is my understanding that the two of you don’t exactly have the best relationship.”

 _No,_ Akashi thought to himself, _we certainly don’t._ Even their meeting two weeks ago hadn’t been the smoothest of sailing. Furihata had been a trembling, stuttering mess throughout their conversation. Akashi felt guilt blossom in his chest again, remembering the apprehensive way Furihata had approached him to take the book out out of his hands. He had reminded Akashi of a frightened animal, ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

Akashi knew why, of course. Furihata had witnessed his other self’s cruel behavior on more than one occasion. He had tried to hardest to put the other boy at ease, but Akashi was doubtful of his success. After all, Furihata hadn’t appeared any less anxious than he had at the beginning.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Akashi answered rather carefully. “It just seemed a shame, to see someone struggle for results, when they clearly have a love for the sport. I also have more free time than usual, so it won’t interfere with my schedule. I decided it couldn’t hurt, to lend my assistance.”

Akashi knew without a doubt in his mind that Furihata had a strong passion for basketball. There was no other explanation for the level of determination that Furihata possessed. Akashi had watched people with more skill give up without a second glance, once things got tough. Furihata telling him that he often stayed late at practice, as well as on the weekends, only confirmed it. Akashi couldn’t help but respect somebody who gave their all, even if they didn’t have that much to give to begin with.

But even that wasn’t entirely why Akashi had offered his help. He’d been surprised to discover that Furihata held a very low opinion of himself. When Akashi thought about the way Furihata had endlessly cheered his team on in the Finals, or remembered his sunny disposition when talking to his friends at Kuroko’s party, Akashi had gained the impression that Furihata was generally a happy, upbeat person. Hearing him speak so negatively about himself had clashed with that image, and Akashi couldn’t help wondering _why._

Furihata had stated multiple times over their conversation that he “wasn’t very good” at basketball, and Akashi had strongly disagreed. Just because his fundamentals were slightly below average didn’t necessarily mean Furihata was as useless as he seemed to think he was. If anything, Akashi had been impressed, watching the first year face off against Kaijo. Controlling the speed of a game was no small feat, but Furihata had managed to do it with seemingly little effort.

A point guard’s job was set up plays, and Furihata had done so in a way that was similar to how Akashi himself played. Every move was carefully calculated, and neither one of them passed unless they were absolutely sure it was the correct move.

Of course, their game had been an entirely different story. Akashi could easily recall the way Furihata had trembled from head to toe as he approached him on the court. His other self had immediately disregarded Furihata as a weakling, but even he had been faintly surprised at the determination in the other boys’ eyes as he rushed forward to guard him.

Despite the fear clearly written on his face, as well as the unbearable pressure from the crowd, Furihata had even been able to score. His other self had been annoyed, that someone so pathetic had managed to score against them, but looking back, Akashi found it undeniably impressive. The shot was obviously the result of hard work and practice, because otherwise, it easily could have missed.

All those factors were easily discernable to Akashi, and it left him bewildered that Furihata was unable to see his own strengths. He was overcome by the strangest urge to _make_ Furihata see them, to realize his own potential.

Akashi was certain he could help him, if he were given the opportunity. He had done so countless times for others in the past, although with no one quite like Furihata.

“Do you think he’ll accept your offer?” Midorima asked, interrupting Akashi’s thoughts. He blinked, turning Midorima’s question over in his head.

Akashi frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I suppose only time will tell.”

The more time that passed, the less likely it seemed, that Furihata would contact him. He wasn’t surprised, that Furihata hadn’t. The boy had seemed, to put it mildly, shocked and frightened by Akashi’s suggestion. Akashi had the troubled sense that Furihata had wanted to turn him down, but had been too polite -or too afraid- to say so.

He had thought about walking by the street court after his time at the office was finished, but decided against it. Akashi had no desire to appear pushy, and he didn’t want to upset Furihata more than he already had.

Akashi couldn’t help but wonder if the string had anything to do with it. If Furihata was against the idea in the same way Akashi was, perhaps Furihata would rather not spend anymore time with the person he was tied too. Under normal circumstances, Akashi probably would have felt the same way. But he had decided to assist Furihata without the string clouding his thoughts, and he wasn’t about to go back on a decision.

Midorima soon changed the subject, and the two of them spend the remainder of their time together discussing other things, like upcoming exams and plans for the summer. They talked about a possible get-together with the rest of the Generation of Miracles in the next couple of weeks, and Akashi found himself looking forward to it.

The green phone on the table buzzed, and Midorima picked it up, reading the text and sending a quick reply.

“Takao will be here shortly,” Midorima told him.

Akashi laughed lightly. “He’s picking you up, I presume?” The arrangement always seemed rather strange to Akashi, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Takao got of it.

“Yes, we have plans to go to an antique shop afterwards.” Midorima adjusted his glasses and pushed out of his seat.

Akashi finished the last of tea and stood. “I had better be on my way as well. I still have several business files to look over before tomorrow.” He grabbed his bag and nodded to Midorima. “I’m going to use the restroom before I leave. I’ll be sure to let you know, if I am able to set up a meeting with everyone.”

“Please do,” Midorima responded. They said their goodbyes, and Akashi watched Midorima exit the shop before heading to the restroom. He emerged just in time to see Takao pull up on his bike, the rickshaw wagon trailing behind it.

Akashi started toward the door, intending to greet the other, but ground to a halt at what he saw through the window.

Takao had laughed at something before making a gesture with his index finger, calling Midorima over to him. With the taller man standing in front of him, Takao had gestured again, in a way that said “come closer”. Midorima bent down, an annoyed look on his face.

To everyone else, it probably looked like Takao had whispered something in the taller boys ear. Only Akashi, who could make out the tiniest of movements, had caught what _really_ happened.

Takao had purposely brushed his lips, ever so slightly, against Midorima’s cheek.

Akashi watched as Midorima pulled back, red tinting his cheeks. Takao laughed loudly as Midorima grabbed his wrist. Their faces moved closer together, one wearing a bright grin the other full of annoyed embarrassment. They stayed like that for a moment too long before Midorima pulled away, shoved his glasses up his nose, and climbed into the cart.

Well, Akashi thought, _that_ was strange. Apparently Midorima wasn’t as put off about Takao as he always pretended to be.

_Could it be the string…?_

Akashi shoved the thought out of his head. The string didn’t mean anything. It was a coincidence, nothing more. It very easily could have been a prank on Takao’s part. From what Akashi had gathered of the other, it was a reasonable enough conclusion.

Akashi made his way back to the apartment, curiously wondering what could have changed his friend's mind. He knew Midorima well enough to know that he wouldn’t get a straight answer, even if he asked.

Once home, he started sorting through his paperwork, laying everything out on his desk to begin working. He pulled his phone out, planning to check his e-mail, when he noticed he had a new message notification.

The sender was from an unknown number, and he frowned as he clicked to open the message.

_[Hey, Akashi-kun. It’s Furihata. Um, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you or anything. I was just thinking, I guess, and I was wondering if you were serious? About helping me out and stuff. Cause I was thinking... maybe I’d take you up on it? If you’re okay with it, that is. It’s totally fine if you don’t want too, or if you changed your mind or something. I understand, really. So, um, just let me know, I guess?]_

Akashi stared at the message in disbelief. Even though he had made the offer in all sincerity, Akashi was beginning to doubt that he would ever hear from Furihata. Akashi could practically feel the nervousness radiating through the phone, and he wondered how long it took Furihata to compose the message.

Excitement drummed in his veins for a reason he can’t explain. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that Akashi feels like he may have made progress in altering Furihata’s impression of him. Or maybe it’s in part that Akashi will have a meaningful way to fill his free time, by helping out a fellow basketball player.

Akashi typed out a reply and hits send, wondering what Furihata’s reaction would be when he read it.

He’s bound to find out sooner or later, if Furihata decides to go through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say slow burn, I mean slow burn, lol. For those of you waiting for the real plot to get here, have no fear! They'll both realize they're being idiots eventually, trust me. (Although getting Akashi to admit he may have been wrong might be a bit of a problem, lol) 
> 
> As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for sticking with me so far <3


	4. Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, finally! It took me way longer than I wanted it too, but I think I'm happy with it? Sorta?

Akashi leaned against the chainlink fence of the street court, scrolling through his phone. He’d been sure to arrive early, not wanting Furihata to have to wait on him. Akashi was almost certain that this meeting was bound to be more than a little uncomfortable, but he wanted to start off on the best foot possible.

After replying to Furihata’s text, Akashi had patiently waited for a response. He had expected an immediate answer, since he had replied fairly quickly to Furihata’s message, but instead he was met with a blank screen for nearly an hour before his phone buzzed. Furihata’s second message had been more or less as stumbling as his first. He could almost picture Furihata’s nervous fingers pressing into the letter keys of his phone, trying to work up the courage to hit send.

Akashi had responded carefully, doing everything he could to put Furihata at ease. The other boy seemed overly concerned that Akashi was somehow agreeing to their arrangement against his will, which was hardly the case. He assured Furihata multiple times that no, he was not bothering Akashi in the slightest, and that he was more than happy to oblige.

They finally agreed on a time and day, much to Akashi’s continued surprise. Furihata’s last message had been simple - _[I’ll see you then, Akashi-kun.]_

Akashi had come more than well prepared, having brought a basketball as well as stopping by a nearby convenience store for a few bottles of water. He didn’t know how long they would be here, and he wanted the day to run as smoothly as possible, given the circumstances.

He had a basic plan for their schedule, although most of what they worked on would depend largely on Furihata. Akashi wanted to start off easy, rather than throwing Furihata into more complex maneuvers right from the beginning. He intended for this first meeting to more of an ice breaker than an actual training session, and he hoped that things would run smoothly.

Akashi couldn’t help but worry, however, that he would somehow end up intimidating the other boy off, no matter how hard he tried.

His brows furrowed, and he quickly pushed the thought away. It would be fine, Akashi assured himself. If Furihata were truly against the idea, he wouldn’t have contacted Akashi in the first place.

Akashi was just starting to run over his itinerary for the afternoon again, when a shaky voice pricked in his ear.

“U-Um… s-s-sorry I’m l-late.”

Akashi glanced up to see Furihata standing several feet away, his hands wringing together nervously in front of him. He was obviously dressed for a workout, although he certainly didn’t appear to be in any shape for one. Furihata’s face looked sickly pale, and the way his knees were practically knocking together reminded Akashi of a newborn fawn.

“You’re right on time, actually,” Akashi reassured him with a smile, putting his phone away. “I wanted to pick a few things up first, so I arrived earlier than our scheduled time.”

Furihata blinked, his expression dazed. “O-Oh…” he mumbled. His eyes only met Akashi’s for a few seconds before flitting to the side, only to flicker back a moment later. He scuffed his shoe against the tarmac, looking very much like he would rather be anywhere else.

Akashi pushed off the fence, and walked towards Furihata. He pretended not to notice when the other took a step back.

“So then… shall we begin?” Akashi asked.

Furihata’s lips quivered, and his mouth opened to reply, only for him to shut it a second later. Instead, he gave a hesitant nod.

Akashi repressed a sigh. This was going to be much more difficult than he’d imagined.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what it is that you usually work on?” Akashi suggested, making sure to speak in his gentlest tone.

Furihata visibly swallowed before answering, his voice wavering with every word. “U-Uh… u-usually just s-shooting, I g-guess. I try to p-practice d-dribbling too, but, u-um, I’m not s-sure how to w-work on it.”

Akashi nodded. Shooting was fairly simple, but practicing dribbling was much more difficult. There were multiple techniques for improving one’s ball handling abilities, and many of them required constant repetition. He didn’t see a problem with that, at least, given Furihata’s determined mindset.

He thought carefully before responding. “I don’t believe you need much help on shooting, after seeing what you’ve been doing on your own. You have good form, and if you keep to your routine you’ll increase your range and accuracy.” Furihata’s eyes widened a bit, but he made no move to respond. “So why don’t we start with dribbling, then, if that’s alright with you?”

It looked like Furihata took a deep breath before answering, nodding hesitantly. “O-Okay, s-sure.”

Furihata slid his bag off his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. Akashi knelt down as well, pulling his basketball out and settling it against his hip. When Furihata straightened, his own ball clutched between his hands, Akashi was careful to give him a reassuring smile. Furihata didn’t return it. Instead he continued to stare, looking very much like a deer trapped in headlights.

Akashi weighed his options quickly, trying to decide on the best course of action to start off with, as well as a way to break the uncomfortable tension between them.

The latter part of that was proving much more difficult than expected.

“There are several ways to improve one’s dribbling abilities, but the majority of people often overlook the basics. Instead they attempt more complicated moves from the beginning, only to learn they lack a solid foundation,” Akashi explained. “In other words, they try to run before they can walk. The key is to start off slow, and gradually move up over time.” He moved towards the fence, dribbling in front of him while still looking at Furihata.

“This is the quickest and easiest method,” he said lightly. Akashi jerked his chin, indicating for Furihata to follow him. The ball bounced against the pavement in a steady rhythm as Akashi began walking slowly along the fenceline. After a moment's hesitation, the sound of a second ball joined in as Furihata stepped along beside him.

They walked in silence, the echo of two basketballs the only sound around them. They rounded the first corner of the court, walking casually. Akashi glanced over to Furihata, only to see the other boy had his head bent down, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watched his hand dribble the ball.

“Furihata-kun,” Akashi said.

Furihata’s head snapped up, and his hand fumbled with the ball, hitting it sideways and causing it to bounce away. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed to retrieve the ball. When he made his way back, Furihata stood with it held in his hands, his posture tense.

Akashi stilled his own ball before speaking. “I apologize for startling you,” he began, well aware that this seemed to be a recurring problem between the two of them. “However it did help me to illustrate the point I was about to make.”

Furihata glanced up hesitantly, his expression one of confusion. Akashi continued “The point of this exercise is to not focus on the ball, but instead to better your ability to control the ball without looking at it. Not having to constantly watch your hands will make harder moves that much easier in the future, and allows you better concentration on the court.”

Understanding dawned on Furihata’s face. “O-Oh. That m-makes sense.”

Akashi smiled. “Shall we continue?”

Furihata nodded, and the two of them started walking again. Akashi watched as Furihata pointedly kept his chin up, although he kept reflexively attempting to glance down to watch his hand. Furihata’s pace slowed, and Akashi decreased his stride to match it. The sound of Furihata’s ball hitting the pavement was more irregular now, but he kept control over it.

Akashi wracked his brain for something to say, to fill the silence between them. Furihata was clearly focused, and Akashi had no desire to break his concentration again. Given the circumstances, perhaps silence was the best course of action.

But while silence would certainly be easier, it also felt incredibly rude. The last thing Akashi wanted was for Furihata to think that he was regretting his offer to practice with him. He weighed the benefits of each option carefully, trying to decide which would be best.

Akashi didn’t expect Furihata to start a conversation, so it came as a complete surprise when he broke the silence first.

“I see wh-what you mean,” Furihata murmured, quietly enough that Akashi briefly wondered if he was speaking to himself. “This is w-way harder.”

Akashi nodded. “That it is,” he said calmly. Furihata jolted slightly, but kept control over the ball this time. His eyes flickered towards Akashi for a moment before focusing straight ahead again. “The payoff is well worth it, though.”

Furihata didn’t respond, but Akashi continued, determined to keep the conversation going.

“This is an exercise I use to practice as well,” Akashi said tentatively. “Ball handling is a skill I worked on tirelessly myself, when I first began playing.”

Furihata hastily looked over at Akashi, surprise written across his face. “R-Really?”

Before Akashi could respond, Furihata’s lapse in focus caused him to hit the ball wrong again, but he quickly saved it before it got away from him. He began dribbling again, an embarrassed blush spreading across his cheekbones.

“Sorry,” Furihata mumbled timidly.

Akashi laughed lightly, and Furihata glanced over at him again. “There’s no need to apologize,” he assured Furihata. They rounded the final corner again, completing their second lap around the court. Akashi wondered if Furihata would stop when they reached their bags, but he kept going, wearing a concentrated frown.

Furihata peaked over, meeting Akashi’s eyes briefly before looking away again. “S-So… this was h-hard for y-you, too?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

Akashi was surprised again, that Furihata was the one instigating the conversation. Typically, Akashi was the one who normally knew the perfect thing to say, and when to say it. Speaking with others was something he felt he was well versed in, but when it came to Furihata, nothing felt right.

He wanted to put Furihata at ease, to make up for his past behavior, but putting others at ease had never been something he was good at. It was a trait his teammates, both current and former, had often liked to tease him about.

Akashi was by no means a ‘normal’ teenager, a fact he was painfully aware of. Regardless of how hard he tried to blend it, he always ended up standing out. And someone who shined so exceedingly bright did not put others at ease.

He understood Furihata’s surprise at his statement, having received the same reaction before, whenever he mentioned having struggled with something in the past. Akashi knew why, of course. He was well aware that he often came across as someone who was seemingly perfect, untouchable, _flawless,_ even though that was hardly the case. It didn’t help that his actions rarely discouraged that image, either. And so he was often placed so high above everyone that, even in the times when he _wasn’t_ perfect, no one could see it.

He pushed the troubling thoughts away, shaking his head lightly. This was no time to brood, after all. Instead he turned his focus back to Furihata. “At first, yes,” he said, answering Furihata’s question. “I started playing when I was young, and even at that point I realized I was at a natural disadvantage when it came to basketball.”

The rhythm of Furihata’s ball faltered for a moment. “Natural d-disadvantage?”

A smile quirked at the corner of Akashi’s mouth. “Surely you have noticed that the majority of basketball players often exceed the standard of what is considered normal height.”

Furihata scoffed a little, and it almost sounded like a laugh. “‘Natural d-disadvantage’”, he repeated. “That sounds way b-better than saying ‘short’.”

Akashi couldn’t help but laugh at the resentment in his tone. He noticed that Furihata had the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as well. “Players like you and I who are not able to rely on physical size often have to compensate by excelling in other areas.”

“I never t-thought of it that way,” Furihata said after a moment. “You’re r-right, though. It is a d-disadvantage.”

Akashi met Furihata’s gaze, noting that he didn’t immediately look away, like he usually did. “I didn’t notice it quite as much when I played for the Community League in grade school, but it became glaringly obvious once I entered middle school. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that all of my former teammates, with the exception of Kuroko, are all naturally gifted when it comes to their height.”

“Yeah,” Furihata said. He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip in deliberation. “I t-think it’s really impressive, what y-you and Kuroko can do despite the size-thing. I g-guess it sorta m-makes me feel b-better?”

The genuine compliment threw Akashi off for a moment. Akashi tended to avoid discussing his personal skills with most people, as they usually only responded with envy or disdain. But Furihata hadn’t sounded envious, or resentful. If anything, the other’s tone didn’t imply anything other than honest appreciation.

 _Well_ , Akashi thought to himself, _that was different._

“We both had to become proficient in other areas to keep up with them,” Akashi said slowly. It was an understatement, but Furihata doesn’t need to know the dark details to go along with it. “Of course, Kuroko already possessed a natural advantage of his own to be used on the court.”

Furihata laughed, a small sound, but Akashi still looked at the other in surprise. “If y-you ask me, misdirection is w-way cooler than being tall," he said, grinning nervously. “Not e-everyone can do w-what he does.”

Akashi blinked, and found himself laughing too. “I would have to agree. Like height, it is not something that can be taught, and that makes it all the more valuable.” Akashi glanced over at Furihata, and nodded in his direction. “I would say the same about you.”

Furihata stumbled, catching the ball in his hands before looking at Akashi with raised brows. “M- _Me?_ ” he squeaked incredulously, pointing a finger at his own chest.

Akashi stopped as well, stilling his own ball once again. “Yes, you,” he smiled. “The drive to improve oneself cannot be taught either. Most people tend to give up when they become discouraged, but you do the opposite.” Akashi paused, tilting his head to the side. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who possesses the level of determination you have.”

Kuroko is the only other person Akashi could think of, who had an extreme drive to improve. He had lost count of how many times he walked in on Kuroko and Aomine practicing back in Teiko. It had been almost painful to watch, to see how hard Kuroko struggled only to show little to no improvement. Of course, once Akashi gave him the suggestion on using his lack of presence, things had escalated quickly. But even with Akashi’s proposal, putting the effort into making it a reality had all come down to Kuroko.

Furihata reminded him of Kuroko, from their Teiko days. Only Furihata had no natural ability to build upon.

Akashi turned his attention back to the other, only see Furihata staring openly at him in wide-eyed shock. When their eyes met, Furihata snapped out his stupor and lowered his gaze to the ground, red rushing up to paint his cheeks again.

“I, uh, s-sorry,” Furihata apologized again. “It’s just…” he hesitated, peeking up at Akashi from under the fringe of his hair. “No one h-has ever said anything l-like that before. To me. And h-hearing it from y- _you_ …”

Furihata palmed the ball nervously, and Akashi could see his hands were trembling again. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Akashi wondered in alarm if he had somehow upset him.

“It m-means a lot,” Furihata finally stammered, his voice quiet. For the first time, he fully met Akashi’s eyes. And then he was speaking again, the words pouring out so quickly that Akashi could barely keep up.

“I mean you’re amazing at everything, and you’ve played with all these other super talented people, and hearing you say all this nice stuff to _me_ just kinda blows my mind, I guess? And part of me doesn’t believe any of it, but I don’t know why you would bother lying, and I talked to Kuroko and he said that you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it, and that sorta confused me even more.”

Furihata paused to take a deep breath, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the ball, and continued. “I was really worried about coming here, because I was sure I was gonna screw everything up, and I don’t want you to feel like you're wasting your time, because I really appreciate it. You offering to help me and everything. It’s really nice.” He said the last line softly, meeting Akashi’s eyes shyly.

Akashi stared at Furihata in disbelief, trying to process all of it. It was the most he’d ever heard the other say, much less directly towards him. He knew something must have taken place, for Furihata to willing agree to practice with him, but he hadn't imagined anything like this.

He  understood why Furihata had been so hesitant to agree in the first place. Akashi had originally thought that it was fear that made Furihata cautious, but now he saw that was not entirely the case.

While it wasn’t something Akashi had any personal experience with, the concept of disbelieving words of encouragement wasn’t foreign to him. He had heard similar expressions of doubt from his teammates since middle school, whenever he tried to give them reassurance.

_“What’s the point of trying to get better? I’ll never be as good as you anyway.”_

_“No matter how good I get, I’ll still be riding the bench as long as you guys are around.”_

_“Hopefully I don’t end up in high school with one of them. Maybe then I can actually play.”_

Very few of them had taken his words seriously. Even their old captain Nijimura, who was an exceptionally talented player, had reluctantly admitted that the Generation of Miracles were on an entirely different level.

Akashi naturally excelled at anything he tried, making it hard for him to relate. He liked to think that if the day came when he _didn’t_ , that he wouldn’t hold a similar mindset. He wanted to believe that he wouldn’t give up, or lose hope like he had witnessed so many others do before.

It came as a surprise to hear that Furihata apparently felt the same way. He was like a walking contradiction, Akashi thought. Furihata was hard on himself, yet he was able to be uplifted by the words of others. He was shy and anxious, yet incredibly determined. He doubted his own skill, yet he was willing to go through extreme measures to improve. It seemed like every time Akashi felt he had a grasp on him, Furihata did something to throw him off.

Furihata was currently chewing on his bottom lip again, looking very much out of place. Akashi gathered his thoughts carefully before responding.

“I’m happy to hear you say that,” Akashi said gently. “I sincerely meant what I said to you, when we last met. You have plenty of potential to grow as a player, and I would hate to see you give up.” Furihata looked at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. “And I assure you, it’s not a waste of my time at all, to be here.”

Furihata blinked slowly, as though in a daze. There was a beat of silence before he responded.

“Um…” Furihata shook his head slightly, like he was trying to clear it. “T-Thank you. Really.”

“You’re very welcome,” Akashi said, a small smile gracing his lips. He dribbled the ball a few times, looking at Furihata with a raised brow. “Shall we?”

Furihata nodded, and started dribbling again. They were halfway around the court from where they left their bags, having lapped the court a handful of times at this point, and Akashi wondered if now would be a good time to stop and take a break. Neither one of them were out of breath, but the weather had been warming up lately, and the sun was beating down with full force today.

They walked in silence again, but Akashi noticed that most of the tension was gone from the air. Furihata looked thoughtful, his posture more relaxed. Perhaps this idea hadn’t been a complete disaster afterall.

Akashi paused once they reached their bags, and Furihata skidded to a halt beside him.

“Would you like to stop and rest for a moment?” Akashi asked.

Furihata looked apprehensive again, for some reason, but he agreed. “Y-Yeah, sure.”

Akashi set his ball down against the fence before unzipping his bag. He grabbed two of the water bottles, and looked over to Furihata. “Did you bring anything to drink?”

Furihata jumped slightly. His eyes flickered between the bottles in Akashi’s hand and his bag. “Oh, u-uh, I didn’t, but y-you don’t have to-”

Akashi held one of the bottles out to Furihata. “I insist,” he said sternly.

Furihata’s mouth pulled up in a small, grateful smile, which was an odd contrast to how his hand shook as he reached for the bottle. “Thanks.”

He unscrewed the cap and took a small sip, both his hands wrapped around the bottle. Akashi sat down gracefully, leaning back against the fence. Furihata seemed torn for a moment, hovering near his bag, before sitting down as well, leaving a few feet between them.

It was quiet as they both quenched their thirst, almost peaceful. Furihata stretched his legs out in front him, his fingers picking at the label on the bottle.

“Um, s-so…” Furihata began hesitantly. “C-Can I ask you s-something?”

Akashi almost attempted to joke that Furihata had just asked him a question, but decided against it. The other boy seemed nervous again, suddenly, and Akashi braced himself, assuming that whatever Furihata had to say would be serious. “Of course.”

“Y-You don’t h-have to tell m-me, if you don’t w-want to, b-but, um…” Furihata trailed off, his voice growing shakier with each word. He wrung his hands restlessly around the water bottle, his eyes downcast. “I was j-just sorta wondering wh-what you’re doing in T-Tokyo, since you l-live in Kyoto and all.”

Akashi blinked in surprise, caught off guard. It was a fair question, in all reality, but he’d been expecting something else from Furihata, given his uneasy behavior. The slight tension left his shoulders, and he looked over at Furihata with a smile.

“My father insisted I take an internship at the Tokyo branch of his company during the summer,” Akashi answered. He hadn’t mentioned the internship to many people, not wanting to come across as pretentious. Afterall, Akashi was more than aware that not many sixteen year olds were given similar opportunities. “I work for a few hours on Saturday’s so I can still attend school and practice during the week.”

Furihata turned towards him, eyebrows raised. “Wow,” he said quietly. “That’s r-really cool.”

Once again, Akashi was bewildered by the complete lack of resentment in Furihata’s tone. There was nothing but curiosity and genuine interest in his brown eyes.

“It’s not nearly as interesting as it sounds,” Akashi said, playfully rolling his eyes. “To be honest, I spend the majority of my time there filing paperwork or retrieving coffee.”

A brief laugh escaped Furihata’s lips. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, ducking his head. “That d-does sounds pretty b-boring, though.”

Akashi smiled. “It gets rather tedious, but it can be interesting at times, to say the least.”

Furihata nodded thoughtfully. “It s-sounds like a lot. I mean, with e-exams coming up and e-everything.”

Akashi hesitated a moment, debating on how much detail of his absurd schedule he wanted to discuss. “It can be overwhelming occasionally,” he said slowly. “But my schedule will open up much more once the school year ends.” Akashi paused, tilting his head slightly. “Do you have any exciting plans for the summer?”

“Oh, u-uh…” Furihata ran his hand through his hair, shrugging lightly. “Not really. Probably j-just practice and team s-stuff, mostly.” He wavered for a second before continuing. “Our c-coach has been working with the f-first years a lot. I t-think she wants to give us the ch-chance to play more this year.”

Akashi gave Furihata a knowing smile. “So I’ll be seeing you on the court more often this season?”

Furihata drummed his fingers against the plastic bottle, looking disheartened. “I d-don’t know. I mean, e-everyone else is w-way better, so…”

“It is my understanding that everyone else also has more experience than you,” Akashi reminded him. It was obvious that most members of Seirin we’re all talented in their own right, but they also at least a year of development playing for a school team, and most likely more than that. He knew their ace, Kagami, had clearly been playing since he was young, and Akashi was willing to bet that several others had as well.

“Yeah, t-that’s true,” Furihata agreed, although he didn’t sound convinced. “It just seems kinda p-pointless, to try and c-catch up with them, you know?” He smiled weakly, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

Akashi thought back to his Teiko days, remembering the panic he felt as he watched his former teammates’ talent blossom, fearing that someday they would leave him behind.

Perhaps the two of them had more in common than Akashi thought.

“I understand the sentiment,” Akashi said quietly. It wasn’t something he liked to remember, but suddenly he realized that it might be something that Furihata needed to hear. “In middle school, I had similar feelings, as I watched my teammates grow.”

Furihata’s head snapped towards him, that startled look back on his face. His eyebrows pulled together slightly, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief.

Meeting Furihata’s gaze, Akashi was suddenly hit with the realization that he didn’t want Furihata to go through what he had. Akashi certainly hadn’t chosen the best course for handling the situation, but it had got him to where he was today. He wanted Furihata to find the same sense of peace that he felt now, when he played with his team.

He didn’t want Furihata to feel as useless and weak as he had back then, when he thought he would fail everyone.

Slowly, Akashi extended his hand, reaching towards Furihata. He knew this could very well backfire, given Furihata’s unease when they were in close proximity, but he moved regardless. Furihata seemed frozen in place, watching Akashi warily, his eyes unblinking.

Akashi gently clasped his shoulder, and Furihata jolted slightly at the contact, his eyes widening further. Furihata didn’t move away, but he could feel the tension under his hand.

“I know it’s hard,” Akashi said gently, holding Furihata’s gaze. “But I assure you the results are worth it, in the end. The fact that you haven’t given up already speaks volumes, considering how easy admitting defeat can be.” He squeezed Furihata’s shoulder gently, and raised his chin, continuing firmly. “You’re a valuable player, Furihata-kun. Please don’t forget that.”

Furihata stared at Akashi for a long time, with parted lips and wide eyes. Akashi felt doubt stir in his chest the longer the silence stretched on. His hope had been to sound supportive, to reassure Furihata that things would get better, as long as he kept pushing forward. Akashi wholeheartedly believed that, and his goal was to get Furihata to believe it as well. But now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done the opposite.

After what felt like an eternity, Furihata blinked, shaking his head gently. Much to Akashi’s surprise, he noticed a faint trace of pink spread across his cheekbones as Furihata turned away, eyebrows drawn low.

“You k-keep saying that,” Furihata murmured softly, his voice was barely above a whisper. “But I h-have no idea what y-you mean.”

Akashi chuckled slightly, relieved that Furihata didn’t seem upset with him. He gave Furihata’s shoulder a final, soft squeeze before pulling his hand back.

“You think ahead of the game,” he told Furihata with confidence. “You don’t pass or shoot unless you’re certain it’s the correct move, and you think several steps ahead rather than one or two.” Akashi raised an eyebrow at Furihata, letting a small smirk cross his lips. “That’s one of the reasons I first noticed you, during your game with Kaijo. In that respect, we actually have very similar play styles.”

“I… you--” Furihata stammered. He raised both hands, waving them back and forth frantically. “Wait, wait, wait… you’re s-saying that _you_ ,” Furihata pointed a finger at Akashi “and _me_ …” he gestured to himself with the same finger “play alike?”

Akashi couldn’t help but smile at Furihata’s flustered movements. There was something strangely comical about it. “I believe that’s what I said, yes.” he confirmed.

“But you-- I’m just…” Furihata stopped suddenly, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, blowing it out steadily through his nose. When his eyes reopened, he sheepishly turned to look at Akashi. “Sorry,” he said yet again. “I just…thank you. Really.” Furihata ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll, um, try to remember that. What you said.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “But I’m glad to hear you’ll take my words seriously.” Akashi smiled at Furihata, and surprisingly, Furihata hesitantly returned it. The air was significantly lighter between them compared to when they’d first arrived, Akashi noted with satisfaction.

“Would you like to continue, or would you prefer to end it for the day?” Akashi jerked his chin toward the court. “It’s no trouble either way.” At the start of the day, Akash would have predicted Furihata to decline his offer, but he was quickly learning that Furihata rarely did what he expected.

Furihata leaned forward and dug through his bag, removing his cell phone. He flipped it open briefly before snapping it closed again. “It’s not that late yet, so, um, I...I can s-stay for a while longer, if it’s o-okay with you? I just h-have to be home before d-dinner.”

Akashi pushed to his feet in one fluid movement. He turned and, without thinking about it, extended his hand to Furihata, intending to help him to his feet.

Furihata stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Seconds passed, and Akashi was almost convinced that Furihata would refuse his assistance. It was only when he noticed the red on Furihata’s cheeks that he realized why the gesture might seem odd.

Akashi looked at his extended hand, following Furihata’s line of sight, suddenly becoming aware of the red string knotted around his pinky finger.

Before he could retract his hand, however, Furihata reached out. Akashi watched as Furihata’s trembling hand came closer, before carefully grasping his.

Akashi pushed the sudden reminder of the string away. They had both agreed it was meaningless, after all. There was no reason for it to bother him now, and clearly Furihata had similar thoughts on the matter, if he accepted Akashi’s hand.

He gripped Furihata’s hand in his own, helping him to his feet. Furihata pulled his hand back quickly once he was upright, his face still flushed with embarrassment. Akashi pretended not to notice, not wanting to risk making the situation awkward again. Instead he bent and grabbed his ball, dribbling in place while Furihata grabbed his.

“Ready?” he asked, spinning the ball on his finger.

One corner of Furihata’s mouth twisted up in a half smile, and he nodded. They set off against the fenceline, heading in the same direction they had been before. Akashi felt oddly optimistic, about the remainder of their lesson.

For the first time in a while, he didn’t quite know what might be waiting up ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Akashi's perspective is always killer for me to write. :/ Hopefully I can have the next chapter up soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this fic took me forever to actually start writing, but I'm hoping I'll be able to update it at least every two weeks. Work has been killer lately, but I'm really excited to finally write a multichapter AkaFuri story, so maybe I'll be able to get it out quicker than that.
> 
>  
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> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://humanitys-shortest-soldier.tumblr.com/) if you want news on updates!


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